One Minute Fiction — Are You Talking To Me?

Are you talking to me?
Yeah you.
Are you talking to me?
I see you looking at me.
I see your lips moving.
But I can’t hear what you’re saying.
Seriously, how many times must I tell you?
You need to trim my ear hairs.

Written for Cyranny’s One Minute Fiction prompt. Photo credit: Cyranny.

SoCS — Hairball

I woke up this morning to find that my cat had coughed up a large hairball on our area rug in the family room. It’s not his fault. He’s a cat, and that’s what cats do.

So I went to the cabinet in the laundry room, pulled out my spray bottle of Resolve and, after removing the “solid” part of the hairball with a paper towel, I sprayed the dark stain remaining on the light gray rug. I waited three minutes for Resolve to do its magic and then took a sponge and blotted the spot. Viola! Stain gone. Problem resolved.

Written for Linda G. Hill’s Stream of Consciousness Saturday prompt, where we are to use the word “resolve.” Done and done!

Stupid Human Tricks

My cat sleeps in my bed.

When he gets hungry each morning, usually at around 6, he starts poking my face with his nose to get me up.

This morning when he poked me, I looked by at my bedroom clock. It wasn’t quite 5:00. So I told him that it was too early.

But he continued to poke my face with his nose. I ignored him. So he bit my hand.

I guess he never heard the old adage, “Don’t bite the hand that feeds you.”

In a way, though, I can’t blame him. He didn’t know we turned the clocks back an hour last night. It’s another one of our stupid human tricks.

Cat Scratch Fever

Yesterday, fellow blogger Judy Dysktra Brown wrote a post in which she showed off a very bruised arm that she blamed on “naughty dogs” who leave their marks when jumping up on her.

Pretty gross, huh? When I saw Judy’s wounds picture, I commented, “Okay, I think I need to post a picture of the wounds and scabs on my on my hands and arms that my cat bestows upon me with his razor sharp claws if I dare to ignore him when I’m reading the morning paper. There will be blood!”

To which Judy said, “So I showed you mine. You show me yours.” I told her that I would do so the next time my beloved cat mauled me.

Well, it didn’t take long for my cat to maul me. I was sitting at the table trying to read my morning paper when the cat jumped up on the table and started walking all over the newspaper in a subtle attempt to get my attention. I tried to ignore him, which was a big mistake. In a lightning fast motion and with his razor sharp claws extended, he struck with precision accuracy, his claws tearing at the skin on the last two fingers of my left hand.

I told you, Judy, there will be blood. Happy now?