Paws Of Mass Destruction or The Boys At 5 Months
They’ve only been here a short few months. They seemingly change every day. A new quirk here, a new scratch there, they are a source of infinite wonder, joy, and pain. Growing into their adult bodies—yet still being “yoots”. They’ll tumble for ya. Yup … tumble, rumble, and play every chance they get. They are like magnets when in close proximity to one another. They are furry, soft, cute—yet oh so deadly!
Yes I’m talking ’bout my ragamuffin rude boys ina de yard, ina dis here red neck of the woods. Never let dem soft and cudlies fool ya! Dem dangerous! Like a steppin’ razor. So dangerous. Mr Tosh, you were talking ’bout these two rude boys!
If you wanna live
Treat me good
If you wanna live, live
I beg you treat me good
I’m like a walking razor
Don’t you watch my size
Said I’m dangerous
– Stepping Razor – Peter Tosh
I am living proof of this danger. I am a walking talking survivor of this dichotomy: furry fun fellows with paws, claws, and teeth of mass destruction! Don’t let a quiet moment deceive you. It’s a ploy, a ruse, to lull you into complacency—before these rude boy weasels rip my flesh—or put out an eye.
They are rambunctious boy kittens. They are rude boy fur balls, amped up by the slightest provocation, or movement. They are just acting on instinct. It’s part of their nature. I get all that. I accept all that. And I have learned the hard way: Love Hurts!
The morning of July 22nd I was awoken at around 4:00 AM by Rudie jumping on the bed and him pushing his fur ball head between my neck and chin to cuddle, get pets, and purr up a storm. It’s his ritual. Around 5:00 AM Rocco decided he needed some snuggling of his own and jumped on the bed too. All well and good. When the snuggling stops the play fighting begins and continues most times on the bed, and I eventually must get up. On this particular morning I picked up one of them, I won ‘t name names, to bring him to my face for a little cuddle—like I’ve done countless times before. Though on this particular morning, this nameless rude boy, just pulled back his paw & with only his paw pad, nails retracted, bopped me in my fully opened left eye! WTF just happened!!!???
My eye started watering, my left sinus started to run. After the fact I didn’t freak out. I just got out of bed and started my normal morning ritual. I splashed some water on my eyes, gently patted them dry, and went about my business. It didn’t seem all that bad. My vision was a little blurry but I didn’t think anything of it.
Fast forward to the next morning. I woke up and could feel—something was VERY wrong. The muscles and tendons connected to my eyeball we causing me pain with every eye movement. I got up and went to the bathroom to see the white of my left eye was now blood red. WHAT??? I started freaking out a bit.
Being it was a Friday, and in that much pain, I opted to drive up to Neptune to go to the Emergency Room at Jersey Shore Medical Center. Having lived in Asbury for seven years this is where I was most comfortable going. Long story short—they checked my eye, saw no abrasions. They did give me an MRI to check for abscess behind the eye—seems this can cause the kind of pain I was experiencing. There was none. They gave me some drugs to help with pain and inflammation, and told me I HAD to see an ophthalmologist TODAY! So I called my ophthalmologist’s office in Red Bank. They could take me at 3:00 PM today. Only problem—it was around 11:30 AM when the ER released me back into the wild.
I opted to kill time in Asbury Park, then get some yummy vegan lunch at Dean’s Natural Market. I drove down Kingsley Ave to see the new hotel/condos that had finally been finished, and checked out how much more AP had been gentrified.
Stoped at Hoover Nation and visited with Tatiana, whom I hadn’t seen in a year or more, due to COVID and the ensuing lockdown. Geoff was working in NYC. But G & T’s sons, Indiana, and Texas, were there. What a treat! Got my first post-COVID hug from Indy. Was nice, but odd, all at the same time. I stayed there for about an hour, and caught up. It felt wonderful to be able to talk to intelligent adults face to face, in real time!
After leaving there I went to Dean’s Natural Market to get some yummy vegan lunchables. I sat in my car, windows down, ate, drank, listened to my Big Up playlist & killed time. When done I drove to Red Bank and got to my appointment 30 minutes early—I went in and registered.
Longer story short—the ophthalmologist DID find cornea abrasions. His bedside manner sucked and I told him so. He wrote me two prescriptions for eye drops, for dilation, and an antibiotic. I had to go back to see him again on Monday to see if the drugs helped any, or if my eye was still infected.
By the time I got home to Lanoka, with Friday night bumper to bumper Jersey shore summer traffic—it was after 7:00 PM. My three kitties were VERY happy to see me—and hungry—they hadn’t been fed since 6:30 AM when I left. One thing I’ve learned—my absence makes the Manx boy-cats turn into excited, happy, jumping-creatures on my return. I swear Rocco could earn a gold medal leaping, lunging, and high jumping in the Kitty Olympics! To watch him is a sight to behold. The boy can leap straight up, or lunge forward in a manner that can be gravity defying, entertaining and incredibly comedic—lest a human body part is in his flight path. Sadly, my left leg was in his flight path that evening upon returning home from my ER/Optho/traffic ordeal. You can see the result in the photos. Ouch!
I know it was not his intention—on either count. He was truly excited to see me. But the outcome was a bloody mess—as my ex Adam would say! Normally he will jump on my leg with claws in. I can feel his soft warm paw pads against my flesh; no harm no foul, when all is right with the world. But on this afternoon the outcome of his exuberance was deeply injurious to my left leg. Ouch! Of course I washed it immediately with soap and water, trying to keep the kitty bacteria and other nasties at bay, and tried to stop the bleeding as best I could. Then I had to attend to making dinner for my mom, feed said kitties, and lick my own wounds—so to speak. Both of them!
OMG! What a day! Stress? What stress? It was good to be home and just collapse in my upstairs living room chair and numb my mind with multiple episodes of “Making The Cut”. Yes high fashion as anesthetic & antidepressant—thank you very much!
It’s not like I’m looking for sympathy. It’s more like the realization what I’ll be in for the next few years until—or if— they mellow out. Rocky and Rose were never like this. This hyper. This rambunctious. But then again—that was 15 years ago. My memory might be a little sketchy.
I still love these furry rude boy beasts with all my heart. But uh … Rocco? Rudie? Can we dial it down just a tad? I’m asking for a concerned friend. Okay? Thanks!