Cat Fight

I don't like drama. I avoid confrontation whenever possible. Still, sometimes a situation arises--out of your control and impossible to avoid. A couple of weeks ago I found myself right smack dab in the middle of what can only be described as a true "cat fight". Now that the wounds have healed (both physically and emotionally) I am finally ready to document it. Below are the images (evidence) of said event: (If you want all the juicy details, read on)


**This next picture is a close up to show texture:So, here's the story. My friend, Julie, went out of town and asked me to watch the house, collect a package, and take care of her (daughter's) cat Tasha. The first day Olivia and I went over to feed the cat she looked so lonely. She wasn't interested in her food at all, and just kept walking over to Olivia and purring. Lily (her owner) has been with her dad for about a month, so Tasha hasn't had much "kid" time. Olivia had compassion on her and asked if we could bring her to our house to play for a little while. I agreed, and Tasha had a great time. As we were getting ready to take her back home we discovered that David had kindly opened the door for Tasha. Tasha is ONLY an inside cat, and I was panicking about the possibility of her running away. Fortunately she was scared out of her wits of Shadow and was hiding behind the barbecue. (Shadow was sitting quietly like a good little kitty under the van--oblivious to the fact that he was causing Tasha major anxiety.) I was able to get her quite easily, and was trying to pet her and comfort her. I said, "Oh, it's o.k. Shadow's a nice kitty". I guess that was the wrong thing to say. If any of you have ever heard a cat fight, you know what comes next (minus a second cat. I guess my arm was a decent substitute for the other cat). The noise of cat fights from far away makes the hair on the back of my neck stand up. It is a much more intense sound when it's happening in your very own arms. I tried all the tricks I know to calm a cat down, the first of which was to hold her by the scruff of the neck. That did a whole lot of nothing. She clawed, bit, squirmed, growled, hissed, and made other sounds that can't be described--but they were scary. Olivia was screaming at me to just let her go, but I knew that if she was scared she may leave and be gone forever so I just held on with all my might, knowing that it wasn't a very long walk back to Julie's house. I tried my best to reassure her, and talk calmly (although the words "demon cat" may have slipped out) until we reached her house. It was then that I decided that she would be lonely for the duration of our cat-sitting duties. Fed but lonely. I came home to dress my wounds. The hydrogen peroxide made a fun bubbling display on my arm, and then I smeared neosporin all over it and tried to take a few deep breaths to recover from the drama. I then enjoyed my status as "hero" (Olivia was clearly impressed that I was able to hold on during such an intense fight). Oh, and did I mention this cat is de-clawed in the front? I think she can still hold her own.