Our cat, Ducati, took it upon himself to attempt murder on Augustus this weekend. I was in the office when I heard skittering feet and knew that Gus was probably involved because he’d just wandered down that way. I walked down the hall and as I turned into the bedroom I watched Ducati scurry up onto the bed and hold his paws in the air, yelling I didn’t do nothing to no one! Murder was the case that they gave me, but I’m innocent! I’m innocent. Gus sat in the corner, pressed up against the wall, freaked out and frozen. He was soothing himself by singing Somewhere Over the Rainbow. I picked him up and immediately noticed the blood on his neck. Then the blood dripping down the wall. Then the blood all over my hands and then all the blood pouring from his ear. I held him close and ran down the hall into the bathroom while yelling for Janie.
Janie! Something bad has happened! Don’t freak out, but come help me.
What? Why is there blood all over the hallway? What happened? What’s going on?
It took us a while to figure out that all the blood was from just one wound on his ear. It was a small gash, but our boy is a bleeder! Soon our mostly white bathroom looked like a murder scene. Our bathtub was spotted with blood, as were our floor, toilet, sink, drawers and towels. It took us several minutes to get the bleeding to slow down and, after a while, when everyone was sufficiently covered in red stains, I gave Gus to Janie so I could start cleaning up. Suddenly she felt weak, had trouble breathing and, apparently, could not hear.
Are you okay, Janie?
I’m starting to go deaf and this leads me to believe I might pass out.
It was the most articulate sentence every spoken by a human being about to fall over, that I know of. My only other experience with someone fainting was when that girl, Kate, in grade school, passed out at basketball practice and she didn’t have a chance to accurately voice her symptoms. One minute we’re lined up for some drill or whatever and the next minute she’s on the ground, woozy and crying. Janie was nowhere near that out of it. She sat on the toilet and I told her to put her head between her legs. I took the bloody dog from her and rubbed her back. It was a god damn disaster so, of course, I started to giggle.
After we all settled down and I made it known that I had managed to keep my shit together in an emergency while Janie wilted under the pressure, we gave Gus a quick bath. This was a bad idea because after we dried him off with a towel, he shook several times and flicked bloody droplets all over the place. We cleaned them all up, but the entire time I kept thinking to myself: Oh god damn! If someone finds Janie dead one day and CSI comes up in here and stars spraying luminol and finds all this blood spatter, I’m totally going to jail for a crime I didn’t commit! I should consider packing our bags, research countries with no extradition treaty and burn our house down. Problem solved!