Sunday, 29 July 2007

My nipples explode with delight...not.

I slept amazingly well last night thanks to two chlorphenamine maleate tablets I munched before going to bed. Some nasty little critter decided to bite me earlier in the evening. Damned biting things. I get bitten a lot. Living as I do in the middle of the heavily wooded, swamp-like remnants of an old quarry, home is a haven for all sorts of biting creatures. Stray the Super-Midget* never seems to get bitten. Nor does Badger. Just me. All the little biting things LOVE me. But I don't love them. I'm no fan of inter-species loving...

A few days ago I woke up at about 6am to find the cat berating me for not having fed it. Nothing too unusual here. The cat frequently comes in after a long hard night out in the deepest, darkest swamp. Half dazed, my mind wandered back to the previous evening, which I had a spent cavorting round London with a rather lovely young man. And then I felt a rather strange sensation - a weightiness coupled with something bristly on my chest. I wondered if I was still asleep, but decided the recognition that a day's work beckoned made this unlikely. So, if I wasn't still asleep and subject to random subconscious stuff, what WAS that? I opened my eyes, somewhat reluctant to admit that they day had indeed begun, and was shocked and horrified to discover that the unusual sensation was caused by the afore-mentioned cat attempting to obtain breakfast from my right nipple. Licking. Nibbling. With teeth. Ouch. Owwwwch! Not to mention the "Eeeeew" factor. Ick! Eeeeeeek!

The said cat found itself flying unceremoniously through the air shortly afterwards, projected by my good self. This would have been a fine plan of action on my part had the cat released my nipple of its own volition prior to being thrown across the room. Sadly, this was not the case and the pain which shot through my chest as the cat was forced to release my nipple during its high-velocity flight alerted me to the fact that perhaps my ability to make sound decisions based on good judgement is rather lacking prior to consuming my morning mug of coffee.

I am pleased to report there are no signs of lasting damage to myself or the cat.

*That's Super-Midget in the sense of being somewhat larger than an actual midget. Stray's not quite a midget, though a decent argument could be proposed for being super. She's just a bit small for the purposes of being a person, but I thought "Super-Midget" was a better, kinder description than "Sub-Human".

10 comments:

rob said...

Eeeewwww

Anna MR said...

(Shhh....But, never tell anyone, but I've had a similar experience with a cat. It was twenty years ago, but so shocking was it that this is the first I have ever uttered of it, to anyone, anywhere. And it wasn't even my cat!)

KindaBlue said...

Cavorting round London? Ah, intrigue...

But Why? said...

Anna,

I am SO very glad to hear that I'm not the only person who has suffered at the tongue and teeth of the feline species. This wasn't my cat, either, so were it not for the huge amount of pain this act caused me, I would feel a little guilty at throwing it across the room, but the damned thing deserved it. Ugh. So very wrong...

Rob,
Eeeeewwwwwww indeed. I still shudder to think of it. I suspect I will need some sort of therapy, probably involving lengthy sessions of I'm sorry I haven't a clue therapy in order to get over this incident and move on. Handy, huh?

Kindablue,
My lips are sealed.

xx

DJ Kirkby said...

I have just discovered that it is possible to cringe and laugh hystericaly at the same time!

trousers said...

Hahah, wonderful! Not the experience necessarily, but the telling of it.

One of our cats, when I lived with my parents, used to wake me up by gently pulling her claw across my top lip - I would wake up and be furious but there was this sweet little angelic face staring at me, and I couldn't be angry any longer.

But Why? said...

dj,

I do apologise for making you cringe, but am highly pleased to have made you laugh hysterically. At least, I think I am pleased... Was that laughing with me, or at me...?


trousers,

I assure you, the experience was far from wonderful, as was my morning commute - people were staring at me in accusing fashion as I nursed and cradled my sore nipple on the packed commuter train. My behaviour did have the small advantage of creating for me quite a lot of personal space - for some reason, the other commuters didn't want to get too close. I can't begin to imagine why...

But xx

DJ Kirkby said...

With you, my dear, def with you!

Pixie said...

the cat's all weel and good... what about the man??? spill the beans...
pxx

But Why? said...

The man, pixie?

I believe the man suffer no lasting damage, either.

Not quite what you meant? Well, OK. The man is a lovely, young one. Marginally less furry than the cat. And not ginger, not that it would matter if he were, but it's another thing which distinguishes him from the cat. That, and he has fewer legs... and less pointed teeth. And cavorts nicely, which is just as well as I wouldn't be able to throw him across the room if he didn't.

But xx