One bright June day, shortly before i was to meet the
man, the legend...... Michael Burgess for the first time,
I was sitting in my favourite chair. A rocker, antique no
less, typing away on my computer. Minding my own
business. My cat (yes at one time I owned a cat.....
*never* own a cat...)
yawned, stretched, and rubbed against my leg.
Gently I reached down, scritching (is that a word?)
between her furry ears before resuming my computing.

The silence in the room only broken by the "click click"
as I press the keys, the motor in my cat's throat as she
purred. *Rock Rock* goes my antique chair. *click click*
goes the keyboard. Suddenly, I hear an inhuman shriek.
Just as suddenly, my entire left foot is impaled by 20
miniature swords, piercing through my skin like... well..
20 miniature swords...

As I pale in shock and pain, i look down to see my friggen
cat wrapped completely around my foot, every single
claw buried into my foot and ankle, teeth nestled deep
into my big toe, and her tail trapped beneath the rocker.

I couldn't even breathe from pain.

Slowly I lifted the rocker from my cat's tail. But she didn't
return the favour by releasing me from her claws.

I reached down to try to pry myself free only to have
her embed them deeper into my skin. I was torn between
laughing and crying. The pain was dizzying, but the sight
was hysterical. Literally with my cat embedded in my foot
I hobbled to the phone, and called my sister, crying, telling
her what happened. By the time she got to me, the cat
had mercifully released me and left my foot punctured with
20 torn claw holes and a nice chuck bitten into my toe.

Biting her tongue and pressing her mouth tightly closed,
Karen gingerly helped me wrap the oozing foot, and into
her car. My foot throbbed, my head spun, Karen would
open her mouth to speak, but politely closed it again.

She helped me into the emergency ward of the local hospital
after having driven me there to see if i needed my shots
*COUGH* or if stitches were required........

As the triage nurse unwrapped my foot and beheld
the mangled raw flesh that was once my foot (are you
calling me a liar????), she wrinkled her pert little nose
started cleaning it, and asked what happened to cause
such damage.

Panic stricken, I looked at Karen. There was no way in
HELL I was going to admit being stupid enough to rock
on a housecat's tail and be the victim of a lunging.

Karen cleared her throat.

"Well... we were in Toronto. Yeah. In the backstreets of
the theatre district....." I was nodding enthusiastically,
she continued... "And.....um... we were waiting to see
David Cassidy and Michael Burgess on stage......
"Dave here was attacked in the backstreets by a cat.
"A MOUNTAIN LION!!!!" I added for dramatic effect.

The nurse stopped cleaning my wounds to gaze up at
us, looking for any signs of sanity, i think.
"You were attacked by a mountain lion in the backstreets
of Toronto?" she asks. I could see she was shocked and
horrified, knowing my experience must have been dreadful.

I nodded solemnly, glancing quickly at Karen, who also
nodded.

The nurse looked from one of us to the other.
"Can you hazard a guess as to whether or not this
mountain lion has had rabies shots recently?
I scratched my head.
"You know, it *DID* look rather healthy as leapt down at
me from a great distance. And it's teeth were clean, I
noticed before they became part of my flesh..."
"It's my bet it had shots on April 10th at Kawartha Vets.

Saved from a needle by my keen awareness of mountain
lions, the nurse finished wrapping my foot again, sealing
it closed with two bandages. I looked at them and frowned.

My lower lip thrust out, my chin trembling.

The nurse just stood there, head tilted to the side a little,
a very bored look on her face. "The prey is displeased?"
I frowned again.
"Aren't you gonna draw a happy face on my bandage?"
She blinked, took out her pen and drew what looked like
this: : - |
Limping back out to the car with Karen, we decided that
together, we make a team to be reckoned with in triage.
And vowed to always be there for one another if something
like this ever happened again.

Little did we know.

To....be....continued........

P.S. The mountain cat, that I later claimed after forcing him
listen to "I think I love you" a zillion times
before he finally succumbed to death... is now stuffed and graces Mr.
Happy's manly, den...........

Take me home! Main Dave's Chronicles