Child Abuse

I'm a horrible mother, guys.

Last night, around 2 AM, I woke up. And after MONTHS of being super-cautious and watching for underfoot kittens at all times, I let my guard down. I didn't know Snickers was in the room, and he came out from under the bed...just as I put my big feet down and stood up.

I didn't step on a paw or a tail; I stepped on the ENTIRE CAT.

He hissed, I think, and took off at top speed for the safety of under-the-dresser. It took me five minutes to coax him out, and another fifteen before he would even let me near enough to touch him. All the time he was giving me this LOOK.

You STEPPED on me, it said. And I TRUSTED you.

Finally he let me pick him up, long enough that I was able to give him a few cautious prods, mercifully ignored, to see if anything was hurting. And then he was off again, glaring at my pink slippers, the instruments of his torture.

We watched each other, Snickers and I, for a good half-hour--me, watching for signs that we needed a trip to the emergency vet; him, watching to make sure I wasn't going to stomp him again. I just kept whispering: I am so, so sorry, kitty. I am so sorry. Over and over.

I stretched out on the bed and waited. And maybe ten minutes after that, I felt the little "thump" of a small body leaping onto the bed. Then: paws on my chest, and a furry little backside in my face. He turned around twice, and then all I could hear was a low rumbly purrrrr and the familiar smacking sound, the sound of Snick sucking on the tip of his tail. A few minutes later he was asleep.

Forgiveness is a wonderful thing.