Forget anything I said about cats being all zen and shit. Cats are crazy mf's.
You never see a zen master jump up from his zafu, sprint across the zendo and back, and then sit down again like nothing happened.
Bear in mind I have nothing but compassion for the cat across the street who reduced my left foot to a bloody shredded stump last night when I tried to nudge him out the front door. He's doing the best he can with what he has to work with, and I can empathize with his fear and dismay at being pushed out into the night.
But my foot still hurts.
It's times like this you really miss having a significant other. Established medical protocol calls for me to assume the role of a 12-year-old boy, while my SO takes on the roles of mother, nurse and fetcher of Life cereal. But I have to do all that myself.
Damn, this hurts. He really whacked me good.
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