You cannot trust a cat

If I have learned one thing in my life, it is you cannot trust a cat.
No matter how much trust you place in them, they will turn on you in a split-second. I can attest to that after recent events within my own household.
We are the “cat” people of our neighborhood. I’ve explained our situation in the past – six cats, seven if you count my dog’s cat, and just four people.
Recently, I received an injury – several injuries – to the back of my right hand. I received those injuries from the teeth of our cat, Harrison. He’s a big – very, very big – part Persian. Anyway, he is gray with long hair. And, he has very sharp teeth.
Harrison was lying beside me on my bed. It’s my bed even if he thinks it is his. Cats can be so territorial. Stupid me decided to pet him. Bad move on my part. He was not in an “I-want-to-be-petted” mood.” In fact, he was in a foul mood.
Harrison decided to let me know he did not wish to be petted – with his teeth. He nipped me on my hand.
Now, under usual conditions, a nip like he gave me is an indication he wants me to continue petting. Not this time. He wanted me to stop. I got my signals crossed and continued. He sank his teeth in a little harder and wrapped his claws, both of his front paws’ claws, into my hand for good measure – to make me understand he did not wished to be petted. I got the message.
I think Harrison got the message I sent in return. I swatted at him and made him leave the comfort of my bed. No, I did not actually hit him. I just swatted at him. He is far too fast for me to land an actual blow. He did not go peacefully into the good night.
Later, while I was still in my bed, relaxed and reading the new James Patterson book, “Double Cross,” he returned. It is apt that I was reading that book because Harrison had a “double cross” for me.
I allowed him to return to the exact spot from which I had chased him away from earlier. He got comfortable and I continued to read. He nuzzled up close to me. And, here’s where I made the second mistake, allowing him to exact his “double cross” plan.
I reached to pet him, thinking all was forgiven. It was not.
Harrison repeated his initial actions – grab hand with claws and bit down . . . hard. Now, I believe in the saying, “Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me.” I was ashamed, very ashamed I had been out-witted by a cat – a hairy, fat, gray cat.
I swatted and he ran, again, before I landed a blow. But, I had a plan this time. I chased him.
He headed for the front door. Now, if Harrison sets his mind to it, he can push our glass storm door open with his head. Out the door he went with me chasing afterwards. I lost him in the dark. Hey, he’s gray and it was dark.
I was feeling badly about the situation once more. After all, he’s just a cat and cats are poor dumb animals. Right? Wrong. Like I said, I lost him in the dark and there was no way I could leave him outside. My wife and daughters would kill me if I did. So, I spent half an hour looking for him before tiring and deciding to go back inside to take my medicine from the family for letting him get away.
Low and behold, Harrison was lying on the bed in my room. My wife and daughters said he had been in there for at least a half of an hour. What? Yep, the poor dumb animal had circled around to the side door, which was open so that the dog could go outside, and reentered the house.
Want to know who felt like a “poor dumb animal” then? Me. I hate that cat. Next time I’ll check the back door before I spend a half hour looking. Next time – with cats, there is always a next time.