Feed Your Cat

Or else.

It was just a typical Wednesday morning. I was sitting at my computer desk, getting work done, when my cat came in and let me know she was hungry. So I promptly got up, fed her, and went back to my computer desk to start working again.

A few minutes later, she wandered in. Usually, she goes and takes a nap after eating, so this was peculiar to start out. But upon coming in the room, she wandered over to me and started aggressively rubbing on my legs and meowing at me.

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I told her no; she had just eaten, and I wasn’t going to feed her again at that moment.

That’s when chaos erupted, like a dam breaking on an especially rainy day.

First, she started growling and hissing at me, which was unusual as it was, but I didn’t think much of it. So I just told her to calm down and go away; I would feed her in a few hours when it was closer to lunchtime.

That was the wrong answer.

Without hesitation, she jumped in the air, did a backflip, and kicked me in the jaw. That was the moment fight or flight kicked in, and I realized I had to fight for my life. So I jumped up; being a black belt in cat-kwon-doh, I was ready, and, without missing a beat, started throwing strikes at her while she was still midair.

Not a single one landed.

Her paws, quicker than a flash of light, were deflecting every hit I could possibly toss her way, one after the other. In no time, I was sweating and scared for my life as I backed away from her, out of my office, and into the middle of my living room. I needed more room to fight her at full strength.

I knew I had to keep going. She was hungry and angry enough that if I lost, she would probably consume my corpse. This was a fight to the death.

After my initial set of blows, she struck back. She was too fast for me at first, but after a second of adapting, I could finally start to deflect some of her blows; but not before she got a few good kicks in on my face, one to my spleen, and another somewhere near my liver. All I know is she was good. Way better than I had ever imagined during the times I would day dream about fighting my pets.

That’s when I decided I needed to up the ante, so I grabbed the machete that I had in the house from trimming trees, and I started swinging that thing as fast as I could through the air.

This was a life-or-death situation, so I felt no remorse as I attempted to defend myself with a strong offense.

I thought I had her with a direct lunge I made toward her midsection, but she jumped on top of the blade, stood there looking at me mockingly, and then kicked me right in the chin.

I went flying backwards. She was so powerful.

How could such a small cat be so incredibly strong, I thought to myself as I went flying through the air.

I landed and spun my legs out around me, twirling rapidly as I sprang back to my feet in order to get upright and face off against her again.

She came wandering up to me, glaring at me the entire time, and then pulled out a prison-style shank and started twirling it around professionally with her toe beans.

Where the hell did she get that, and having no thumbs, how the hell was she wielding it so adeptly?

She was certainly in it for the kill now.

So I did the only thing I could do as a strong, powerful, manly man.

I tried to run.

Didn’t work.

Too late.

She was too close, too fast, and I was already too tired and injured from our fight.

She got me several times in different locations on my body, and the blood loss is too great.

I won’t make it.

I barely managed to crawl to my laptop to type this out to warn people that if you happen to have a hungry cat asking for food at your feet, don’t be a dope like I was; feed them, or it might cost you your life.

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