Sunday, April 15, 2012

it was a dark and stormy night...

Vampires don't exist, right? Everyone knows that. (Actually, that's not true. I dare you to tell that to a rabid Twilight fan and see their reaction. Might I also suggest you bring a stake and some holy water?) They're a fantasy for some people and a horror for others. (Or both, if you like that kind of thing.) Nowhere, however, do they cross into this humdrum place known as 'the real world'.

Except... what if they do?

The other day, I was walking in the woods by myself, trying not to trip over too many tree stumps and dead leaves and basically minding my own business. (Amazingly, I only fell over twice! And got mud on only three spots, none of them excessively awkward! Yes, that was a great victory indeed.) Suddenly, a dark (and menacing. Very menacing indeed) shape leaped out of the shadows (did I mention it was dusk? The tension mounts), pushed me to the ground and bit savagely down on my hand! Ever since that day, I've had to endure turtlenecks (after some very awkward questions about hickeys) and an odd sensitivity to the sun (thankfully I have some gorgeous sunglasses, allowing me to rock the Audrey Hepburn look). Could it be that I'm transforming into a creature of the night?


What tipped you off? The fact that it bit my hand? The fact that I seem so blasé? Or did you know I was joking all along?

Whatever it was, I will now confess the truth. (Which is, unfortunately, far more prosaic. My life could use a few vampires.) I was walking in the woods. I was bitten on the hand. However, it didn't exactly leap out of the bushes. More like... I coaxed it. And petted it for a few minutes first.

Yes. I was bitten by a cat. (In my defence, it hurt!) It was all friendly then, suddenly, it decided that it would rather taste my blood than be petted, and latched onto my arm like a limpet. Despite much shaking and prodding, it refused to get off until, in desperation, I knocked it gently against a tree. (So maybe 'knocked' and 'gently' don't really go together. Whatever.) It finally let go, gave me an insulted look (yes, because this was all my fault) and stalked away, leaving me with blood pouring down my arm. (At least it hasn't inhibited my ability to type too much! Although, come to think of it, my keyboard is looking a little horror-movie-ish...) I suppose I should just be grateful it wasn't a mutant squirrel- I've heard they can sometimes stay attached for weeks.

What about you, dearest readers? Any animal horror stories to share? (Or maybe some tips on avoiding these situations? Although the obvious one, just don't pet stray cats, will probably be ignored.)

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