This darling cat, Spooky, somehow managed to get tangled in a plastic bag this morning, approximately 30 minutes ago. From what I can tell, she was in the basement pantry, perhaps sniffing in some of the plastic bags full of canned foods. Perhaps she sniffed too much and a couple cans of tuna came tumbling on her, startling her and getting her all mixed up in the bag (there were three cans laying askew on the floor).
This is when she came ripping through my bedroom, through my luggage, under the bed (knocking the lamp and clock off of the nightstand). I was half asleep and not wearing glasses, but I thought she was chasing Tinker (who is now hiding really well in the house or missed the whole scene and is outside).
I jumped out of bed and ran downstairs. I found her huddled and growling behind the sectional sofa in the living room. I tried reaching down to lift her, but all she would do was growl louder and hiss and bat at my hand. I even tried climbing behind the couch, but there wasn’t enough room to help and it just made her more frantic anyway. I called Mom at work because I just had to tell someone how Spooky became possessed by the Devil. She was psychotic.
I could see that the bag might have been caught on her collar, but I couldn’t tell if it was actually hurting her or not. As I spoke to Mom, Spooky came out from behind the couch and sat under an old-fashioned desk, plastic bag and all. I got off the phone and inched towards the cat. She started growling more, of course. After a few moments of deciding which hand would be able to better grab her, I got hold of her and held her tight to my chest. The plastic bag easily slipped off. She seemed calm for a moment and I let her go. She ran behind the couch, but peeked out at the plastic bag. I got up to throw it away.
To make her forget the ordeal, I went to the basement pantry to get a little can of cat food for her (her favorite reason for me to be around). She followed me down the steps but as soon as we approached the doorway to the pantry, she stopped, growled, sniffed and stared into the dark room. She might be forever turned off from plastic bags.
And as far as I can tell, she really didn’t do any damage to me with her scratches because she is such a little lady cat. She’s a psycho princess furball.
The end. I have to go back to Minneapolis in two hours.