scars

i've seen quite a few posts about scars in the recent while ... i love scar stories. i guess because i have exactly five million scars on my body. four of them are huge and noticeable. two visible with everything i wear and the other two with almost everything. yay!

and i have a few good big scar stories. the other little scars are mostly from eveel cats who don't want me to poke them with sharp objects (what? it's my job!). i've never been bitten by a dog, just sayin'. i do have one significant scar from one particularly pissed off cat. you see, when you start working with animals at a veterinary hospital, you gain a healthy fear of cats. i see it all the time, the rooks are either terrified and won't admit it, terrified and will readily say, "hell no i'm not getting that thing from it's cage!" or completely and utterly in for a surprise (in other words, a dumb ass).

my sorted past with animal bites started when i was in kindergarten and was holding a snake at the petting zoo (best school ever!). not the old blind snake that i had a personal relationship with (i took her home for the summer) a small sneaky snake that apparently should not have been in the hands of a small child because it bit me! damn snake. my mom said, "what happened are you ok???!" "um, nothing. i thought i might drop him. *" which reminds me of one time when we were house shopping and i spied a cat sneaking around the house. i, loving the animals like i do, snuck up on the cat to try some pats. the cat seemed nice enough and so i reached out my little hand and *BAM* got bit! damn cat. i hid my injury from the my mom and sibs and went about my merry way. (i didn't want to get the cat in trouble after all!).

so, i have a history of secrets and lies... and love o' the beasts. when i started my "career" in animal luvin' nursing, i had a similar incident with a cat. this cat was mean and nasty and i was teeerrified of it (i was staunchly in the terrified camp. go figure i'm working with only cats these days). it was a huge black cat on a mission to make my life hell. every time i had to change it's litter box it would try to claw my eyes out. so i was like, fuck that and fuck you cat!

the cat knew i didn't like it, so it made a break for it one day. that's right, it decided i've had enough of this place and it said, "fuck that and fuck you!" ...to me! and calmly streaked out of it's cage while letting out a blood curdling scream.

i'll take this opportunity to mention that, besides deveel cats, i also worked with a senior citizen. i'm not exaggerating. she was sixty FIVE and had worked at my hospital since she was a spry young thing. i assume she had been a spry young thing because at the point i met her she was barely breathing. and she could hardly see. and she smelled. like ooold people. (i really love old people, hi mom. no, i'm just kidding. they're charming. no really! i like them! they're great!). she just happened to be one of the crappy old people who are many thousands of hundred thousands of dollars in debt and just purchased a brand new RV which then forced her to drag her bony self in to sit at the clinic and eek our a meager living. additionally, she also, just for your information, liked to party on the weekend. with her BELLY BUTTON RING, IN HER OLD LADY BELLY BUTTON!!!! nice.

where were we? the, how you say? ah, yes, deveel cat. the cat was hiding under the cages. no problem, i'm nineteen, i have resources. a broom should do the trick. i whacked that cat gently maneuvered the kitty out of under the cages while saying, "you better fucking come out here and get back in your fucking cage or i'm going to let that big huge dog out and he will eat you! i've seen him do it! i don't even feed him very much so he'll be ready for days like this."** "here kitty, kitty!"

the cat came out of under the cages screaming like i actually had whacked him (i didn't, i swear!) and also growling. it didn't move, it was cornered. i started to reach my little hand out to gently pick up the- and *BAM* i got bitten so bad, it makes me cringe just thinking about it. this was my first (and only, i might add) real*** bite from a cat and it hurt. she came at me from the floor, jumped about three feet in the air and hung from my right hand, getting her two left canine teeth into the meat of my palm under my pinkie finger.

i don't think anyone has ever said fuck louder than i did that day. i calmly cradled my hand and walked into the treatment area to retrieve the senior citizen, barbra. i said, "that cat just bit me." (we all knew how shittily that cat was acting). she stared blankly at the computer like she had not heard me cursing the entire world to hell and said, "whaaa...?" "that CAT JUST BIT ME!" i said through clenched teeth. "what? the cat? what cat?" she countered. we work in a veterinary clinic! there are cats in the back and that really scary angry black cat just bit the shit out of my fucking hand! "just go put it back in it's cage, barbra!" i said. she said, "you got bitten?"

by this time, "dr father" came out to see what the comosh was about. i was so frustrated, i saw him and started crying. pathetic, but he was my dr father, distant, funny, good-looking (did i just say that about my father? no he was a father figure! perv). he saved the day and took me to the (human) doctor so my hand wouldn't fall off.

i now bear two teeny tiny scars on my right hand, one on the top and one on the bottom. they kind of blend into all the other teeny tiny scratches i've acquired over the years from other (less eveel) cats. they are probably my second least noticeable scars i have but they've got one helluva story. fuckin' barbra!

*i don't know if this is how a four year old talks (but i do remember this with some clarity).
**i really do like cats, this was a special situation
***while working in my "career"

p.s. update on yoga: my entire body hurts. and i think i've said "motherfucker" every time i've got out of or into a chair slash toilet. the end. (oh and i'm going back tonight) (because i'm stoopid)