Monday blues

As Chris and I were rushing around getting ready for work this morning, I accidentally stepped on Carlo's paw (while wearing shoes!) (because he doesn't move when he sees you coming, which seems to be a surefire way to have your DNA scooped out of the gene pool along with the water skates and old, dead leaves), and holy mother of all that is holy, he shrieked. Not like a cat's normal yowl of displeasure or fear—no, he sounded like a full-grown woman screaming bloody murder. It was frightening. The only time I've even heard of a cat doing that was in "Little House in the Big Woods" (and this is the second time in one week that I've referenced the Little House on the Prairie series, which is another blog entry altogether) when Pa is telling the story of how Grampa's horse had to outrun a panther in the woods, and the big cat screamed and shrieked like a woman, while racing among tree limbs. I always thought was just a bit of literary exaggeration, but apparently not. I jumped about three feet in the air, both up and back.

The sad part is that this incident really freaked Carlo out, so much so that he ran and hunkered down behind a guitar and stopped purring (I didn't know it was even possible). This is the cat who, on his first night home, took a swat at Vinny and was on/in/under everything possible. This cat would be that kid in high school who'd jump off the town's water tower just because you told him it couldn't be done. He has no fear. But I shook him up badly enough that he cowered...my heart is broken into a million little shards. Even after I scooped him up and apologized and snuggled him, he seemed eager to get away from me. I think I'm going to cry….