Well apparently a few people actually look at this because I have gotten a few e-mails/calls asking what happened to my hand, not to mention people (employees and customers) at the bar wondering why I was working one handed (the left at that) and the kitchen trying to read the scribblings of a two year old. First off, the hand is getting better quickly; secondly, the story is pretty ridiculous. And for the people that have known us for the past 15 years, I will be hearing a lot of "I told you so's." Because they know the history.
Time Passing
Fifteen years ago. That is when we got our cat, about three months old, basically a stray off the street. Tiny, cute, but mean. Don't know if she had been abused or just living the NY street life, but cuddly she was not. Any attempt at befriending her resulted in either a growl or a hiss and a definite swipe of sharply nailed paws. But hey, she was a kitten, about three pounds, she did not scare me. I can play that game, and I did: she would swat at me, I would swat back at her; she would get me in a claw hold, I would envelop her head with my hand. This has been our relationship for 15 years; she will sit in my lap and purr but when she wants to play, it's what we do. She's happy, I'm happy. Friends have seen many a scarred hand over the years.
As friendly and warm as she can be with Julie and I, she has never mastered the gentle kitty thing with other people. Any attempt at affection is met with the standard growl and swat. I am blamed for this behavior, perhaps correctly, perhaps not (I mean she was not a friendly cat to begin with.) And, as she has gotten older she has probably gotten meaner (haven't we all?) But those who have dealt with her know that if they leave her alone, she won't bother you. Some of our friends she is actually almost civil to. And that scares them.
Super Bowl, a few friends over to watch the game. The cat, as she sometimes does, moves to the bathroom to sleep in the corner by the warm steam pipe. The game progresses, people are drinking beer, etc. and into the bathroom they head. Generally greeted with a growl, they don't bother her, she does not bother them. However, as people enter more frequently, the growls become louder, there seems to be some interaction going on, I offer to put her in the bedroom, I am assured everything is OK. At some point, it gets out of hand, she is growling/swatting/screeching?/ in her corner, a friend is kind of jabbing her with his boot, I decide just to go get her and put her in the other room. She growls at me, I offer my hand to let her smell it, she starts clawing it with little restraint. My big mistake was not pulling it away (thinking she would stop) but instead she starts biting at me (which she has done before with little affect) and this time she gets me, right between the thumb and forefinger. Into the bedroom she goes, I am bleeding as I often do, a little more than usual perhaps, but some bactyne and beer and I am fine. The Giants win.
In the middle of the night, I wake up, my hand is throbbing and it looks like Sonny Liston's hand with his boxing glove on. As morning comes, even I am aware that I had better get to a doctor. Not able to get into my doctor's office at the last minute, I am sent to a "satellite" office uptown where, after waiting a couple of hours a doctor tells me this is not an unusual outcome, particularly from a cat bite, prescribes an antibiotic and a mild pain-killer. "If it's not better in a few days..."
A few days pass, the swelling has gone down some but the pain is extereme, I can not hold a pen, even putting my hand on a computer mouse on a desk hurts. I am able to get into my doctor's office 4 pm Friday, see another of the staff doctors, who looks at it, prescribes a much stronger anti-biotic and gives me a prescription for a lot of Vicodin, as well as a referral to a hand specialist.
Again, St. John's
Almost end of story. The new prescriptions seem to be working but I go to the specialist yesterday, just in case. The doctor explains that cat bites are often the worst because they apparently have particularly sharp teeth and their mouths are filled with various bacteria which usually cause (sometimes serious) infection. X-rays indicate major inflation of the tendon and joint (presumably brought on by infection) but no more serious damage and, as long as I finish out the antibiotic, I should be fine. Three trips in a week to the doctor office, hours sitting in waiting rooms, at least I walk by the church. If I had been given the second prescription the first time, this would have been a short story.
The Walk Home Amsterdam Avenue
The cat and I are still friends. Super Bowl night, she spent sleeping on my chest. For the time being, I am only tormenting her with my left hand. "See what you have created" Julie often says. Good thing I didn't have kids.
The Culprit
