I am not a turkey, no matter what kitty thinks!

Once upon a time there was a kitty cat.

This kitty cat decided that she wanted a little taste of Thanksgiving.

So whatever did the kitty do?

She BIT me.

Apparently I either look, or maybe smell like a turkey?

Maybe it was the arms, although I'm pretty sure they don't look much like wings.

Who knows.

What I do know is that now my daughter thinks I have mange.

It's not pretty, nor does it feel good.

I think she got bone, or maybe bone marrow.

Ugh.

Don't blame her though, it wasn't reeeeeally her fault.

I'm a sucker for kitty cats, so while I was outside putting up Christmas decorations, I heard her crying.

So what did I do?

I meowed at her.

She came running.

I picked her up.

She got a claw or three stuck in my sweater.

She couldn't get them out.

I couldn't get them out.

She didn't like me trying to get them out.

She proved it.

Oddly enough, she forgave me for prying her claws out of my clothes.

I'm still on the fence about forgiving her.

My wrist looks like I shoved a golf ball under the skin.

It's red.

It's hot.

It hurts.

I can't bend it.

Now I'm gonna go to bed and hope that I do NOT have mange.

Or rabies.

Or tetanus.

Oh and she is SO not getting any table scraps tomorrow.