Cats Are Freaks, Part 2

Cuica attacked my head today.

I was sitting on the couch, putting on my shoes, as you do, when she jumped up on the arm and started doing her Kitten Porn routine. This involves her slinking around in a variety of charming and coquettish kitty poses, and meowling winsomely, until the person she’s fixated on refills her food or pets her or does whatever it is she’s looking for. Because there’s something on her mind, that’s for sure. You don’t get the Kitten Porn routine if she’s just being social. Then, you get the Kitten Dance, which consists of her spinning around in a circle, as though chasing an invisible string.

“Meowl,” she said, batting her eyelashes. Or something.

“What’s up, Cuicks?” I reached for her head to pet her, and she jumped up on the back of the couch, out of reach. So not petting then. Maybe food? “Are you hungry?”

“Meowl.” She wound around my shoulders for a minute, and then, no word of a lie, started to chew on my hair.

“Oh my God, you freak. What are you doing?”

Chew, chew, chew.

“Sean, Cuica is chewing my hair.”

He came into the living room. “Yes. Yes, she is.”

“OK, but why is Cuica chewing my hair?” He shrugged. I craned my neck to look at Chewy Chews. “Cuica? Why are you so crazy?”

As if in response, she jumped on head and sank her claws into my scalp.

“JESUS!” I grabbed my head. Cuica bolted.

“Are you all right?”

“I’m fine! But she just, like, tore a hole in my scalp.”

“She gets carried away. It’s like the closest she’ll ever get to having sex.”

This, by the way? Is where I draw the line. I like Cuica and all, but I’ll be damned if I’m gonna let her have sex with my head. She’ll just have to go back to the telescope. I’m sure they can work it out.

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8 thoughts on “Cats Are Freaks, Part 2

  1. Hmmm, sounds like Cuica has issues with you. Cats don’t do that to people they like unless you’ve been extremely affectionate to them and you aren’t experienced enough to render the appropriate state of arousal (go ahead, hit that comment out of the park).

    Leave something (of little value, preferably) that smells of you on the floor at Sean’s place (underwear would work but don’t use the Louis Vuitton) and see if she pees on it or perhaps tears the crotch out with her teeth. That’ll pretty much tell you that she thinks you are The Competition. Of course, since this a cat we’re talking about her attitude could turn on a dime and the experiment may tell you nothing but would be tremendously entertaining for everyone else.

  2. Well, your head smells really nice, so maybe she just couldn’t help herself. I swear, girl, it’s like you sweat roses or something.

  3. Aha! Mystery solved! Back in the 70’s they sold a shampoo called Gee Your Hair Smells Terrific and whatever you’re using is perceived similarly by cats. However, since what humans and cats prefer the smell of varies somewhat your shampoo should be renamed Gee Your Hair Smells Like A Very Dead Mouse or maybe Gee Your Hair Smells Like Hot Cat Sex (Sean should like that one).

    Ummm, maybe I should amend those descriptions to Gee Your Hair Smells Like A Very Dead Mouse To A Cat and Gee Your Hair Smells Like Hot Cat Sex To A Cat. Hope that keeps me from being banned from the blog (gulp!).

  4. HA. Actually, lpdrjk, I do use “Gee, Your Hair Smells Like a Very Dead Mouse” shampoo. Do you think that’s the problem?

    I did some research on our favorite furry loon Cuicks, and it looks like she’s either exhibiting a wee bit of feline OCD, maybe because of being weaned too early (Sean adopted her from the ASPCA, so he doesn’t know when she was separated from her mama) — or she’s just expressing contentment and forgot that I don’t have claws or kitten-thick skin.

  5. Oh no, Jennie’s using the Cold Light of Reason! “I’m melting, melting! What a world, what a world!”

    Actually, saying that a cat is crazy is redundant.

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