At first the whole thing caught me entirely off guard. Really? A cat? Attacking a dog? What's up with that. But it rapidly became apparent that this beastly blood-thirsty feline wasn't interested in just one quick swat with the paw. She had some ancient score to even. I was spinning around, swearing loudly using words I didn't even know I knew, trying to get Otto and the cat separated! I even kicked the diabolical creature a few times just trying to get her to BACK-OFF. She flew in the air, landed on the fricken cat paws and kept coming right back at us. A relentless hissing, spitting, clawing, biting tasmanian devil of gray fur.
Finally, the devil cat's owner emerged from her apartment and managed to corral the frothing beast. Heart racing, hyper-ventilating, I looked down and saw blood all over Otto. I immediately searched for the source only to find it was MY blood. Gushing from a puncture wound on my left hand. It wasn't until later when I also discovered two large bite wounds on my left thigh. The adrenaline was obviously flowing :) As for Otto? Amazingly unscathed. I don't know whether that now makes me happy or wishing I had some kindred spirit with which to share my own misery...
Beelzebub's owner was highly apologetic and fetched me a washcloth and some peroxide. I mean, she's not the one who blitzkrieged me. Just her untamed wilder. I said all was well - my heart was starting to pound a little less fiercely and the blood flow was staunched. I thought that was the end of it. I just wouldn't go near her corner anymore. Ah, no. That's not quite the way it worked out.
Two hours later, my little puncture wound starts to inflate. At first, not alarmingly so, just a little red, a little puffy. Talk to friend who says to call doctor. I baulk and then call. Dr. clears schedule to fit me in. I leave George the Younger at home watching all-things-sports on his first day post school year 09-10. Tell him I'll be back in just a couple of hours. Gotta pick up some antibiotics and then head to the grocery. I saw him again at 9:00 that night.
Quick synopsis: See Dr. #1 she says, "ooh that's not good. we'll get you some antibiotics." Confers with Dr #2 who says, "Oooh this is more than not good. we will send you across the street to the emergency room. Must do IV antibiotics. Possible overnight stay in hospital" Head to Emergency room. Dr. #3 says "ahhh, cat bites are very dangerous. we'll get you a prescription for some antibiotics and send you on your way. You know those regular doctors, they don't like blood or puncture wounds." Drs. #3,4 and 5 say "Holy CRAP!! This is a big big problem. We will now do IV antibiotics, lots of other shots, and RABIES shots." They get the final say, apparently.
So, I was infused, I have one infusion blow-out so technically I was infused twice. I got about 10 little shots of antibiotics in my already swollen hand. I did not cry. I really really wanted to. Dr. was from Pittsburgh, so he suggested I look away while he was doing his work and talk about the burgh. Conversation went like this:
"I grew up in GREEEEEEEEEENSBURG (holy crap that stings...). My mom's family was from Mt. LEEEEEEEEEEEEEbenon (holy shit that stings). I used to shop at the Monroeville mAAAAAAAAAAAAAAl (please, for ALL that is holy stop putting that flipping needle in my hand!!!!!!)
Next came the rabies shots. Good news? You don't get them in your stomach any more. Bad news? No matter where you get them it hurts like a sonovabitch. Lucky me. Only 4 more to go. Yes, the treat is that I get to hie myself over to the ER 4 more glorious times while reliving the attack of the feral cat. I hate cats.
And, that, my friends, was the day yesterday. Like I said, Holy Cat Attack Batman!
Oh, and I came home to find out that Otto has fleas. Sigh.....