Officially, Jack and I are not speaking.This morning as I got up to go to run, I picked him up to say hello and snuggle a bit. He was content with this as he purred, closed his eyes and snuggled in. And then it happened.
He swatted me IN THE FACE. Not a normal swat, sans the death claws, but full force Wolverine-style.
I was bleeding.
BLEEDING, BLOOD WAS DRIPPING FROM MY SKIN!
I am SO not talking to him.
After he did it, I didn't drop him and scream. I held him and looked at him and said NO! in my most convincing baritone Roy voice.
Not cool, little cat, not cool.
This is officially reason #756,807 that I want a puppy, not a wolf in Jack's clothing.
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