The Almost Bite

So this morning I was getting ready to hit the road for an out-of-town business meeting. As I showered and got dressed, Joey sprawled out on his back with his belly exposed in the master bathroom.

I recalled JM telling me that anytime Joey got into this most vulnerable of positions, it meant that he wanted to have his enormous brown belly rubbed. I decided to oblige this request and gave his stomach a firm rubdown that would make any masseuse proud.

Joey flopped back and forth from his left side to his right side (testing the tensile strength of my floorboards with him), as I've learned he is prone to do when he gets his belly rubbed. Suddenly, I glanced at the clock and realized I was running a tad late.

While continuously stroking Joey's tummy, I found myself lost in a dream state. I began contemplating how I would possibly explain that I was tardy for a meeting because I was "rubbing the cat's belly." It simply sounded like a euphemism for an activity in which a man with a healthy sex drive indulges in from time to time!

(Note to self - submit the phrase "rubbing the cat's belly" to urbandictionary.com)

Then, it suddenly happened.

I have replayed the incident over and over in my mind all day, much like my very own personal Zapruder film.

Joey's front two paws delicately reached out and clamped onto my unsuspecting wrist.

Then Joey's diminutive, yet hauntingly menacing, mouth opened wider than Tila Tequila's legs after two shots of Stoli. And just like that his sharp fangs, dripping with saliva, became visible.

Joey's neck, fat rolls and all, slowly and smoothly craned towards my hand as I innocently continued to rub his belly while my mind was lost in its own personal Narnia. Suddenly, my eyes caught a glimmer of light off of his sharp incisors, which nearly blinded me.

It was like a slow motion clip from a horror movie.

I was just about to suffer a puncture wound from Joey's terrifying teeth when I pulled my hand back in abject horror, jumped to my feet, and yelled, "Joey! What the fuck, dude?!?!?!?!"

And just like that Joey jumped on all fours and scurried away as if he had just been the victim of a domestic abuse situation.

Then I yelled at him, "Hey! I'm the victim here, buddy!"

For the next ten minutes as I gathered myself to leave the house, I continued to orally berate Joey for his horrible behavior. (The "orally" part was in case JM or the people at PETA happen to read this)

I quickly emailed JM on my way out the door and told her how my worst nightmare had nearly come true. You see, I've always had a fear that Joey would bite me one day. This stems back to my great dislike for animals. Firstly, they are beastly creatures that fear nothing and live at the lowest level of "Maslow's Hierarchy of Needs." All they care about is where they'll get their next meal, no matter whether it is store-bought or the flesh of another being. This is compounded with the fact that I was once bitten by a snake in fifth grade and forced to take to crutches because my ankle swelled to the size of a grapefruit. Now you see why my fears of a feline attack are both rational and well-founded (despite JM's audibly enhanced protests).

Needless to say, JM called me while I was on the road and explained to me that when you rub Joey's belly sometimes he wants to "take the roughhousing to the next level" and tries to give you a "playful bite on the hand." She said that if you remove your hand and scold Joey, he will come back and lick your hand, which is supposed to be his way of making ammends.

I told JM I did not stick around for anything more after the "almost bite" and sought safer shelter immediately.

When JM asked if I was alright, I stated that I would be fine.

However, this is a warning to you Joey (as if you're reading this blog on your own little "catberry" Oh goodness that was a horrible pun. I apologize to all 3 of you readers). I let my guard down a little too easily yesterday and started to actually enjoy having a furry creature run wild in my kingdom.

I won't be letting my guard down that easily again for a long, long time.

In the illustrious words of our former President, "fool me once, shame on you. fool me... you can't get fooled again."

Seriously folks... how did that buffoon get two terms?!?!?!?