Cat Tales #35 Battle Scarred

Felix was a complete nuisance overnight, and was thrown in my direction more than once, with accompanying foul language ("Stop f*cking about f*cking animal")

I got up at my usual time of 7.30 to read emails etc.

Over an hour later Fester came into the office saying 

"Battle scarred".

Assuming it was the answer to a crossword clue (well he was carrying yesterday's Guardian) 

I replied "So am I after having a cat thrown at me in the middle of the night."

Then turned to see the scratch on his forehead...

But I had no sympathy.

Disturbing my sleep wasn't going to help his was it?

When he returned from the Mining Institute this afternoon I asked

"How's your battle scar?"

"I don't know, I haven't seen it. What's it look like?"

"Just a thin red line. You've done much worse to yourself without the aid of a cat. 

Mind you that still doesn't excuse throwing him at me."

"Four o'clock, or whatever, in the morning he's lying right on the pillow where my head wants to be, keeping me awake, so I shift him. Thirty seconds later he's back, so I shift him again. Thirty seconds later he's back again, so I threw him at you."

That was his edited account of the proceedings, with expletives deleted by him too.

I don't know at what point in the action the wound was sustained.

Nor do I care.

It’s hard enough sleeping through the snoring and pawing without having cats thrown at me.

 

Altogether now

"So like the homelife of our own dear Queen"