Y'all? Poor Stewie. I make fun of him all the time, obviously, but he's my baby, my special little guy, he's Mama's precious angel baby, really, and he's just…SO dumb, and he gets himself into these predicaments that…Oh lord. Okay, we need some pictures here. But I promise, once the GORE comes into play, no more pictures. Because I am not evil, and even though I DID take pictures of the GORE, I realize that no one wants to see that. So here's the story, sans GORE.
Wait, to begin with, we have to get to WHY the windows were all open. The windows were all open because as I was wallowing in my cold today, I felt hot. Hot! A fever! A fever that will surely go to my brain, BRAIN FEVER, and then? Death. Then I realized that all the windows were closed on a lovely 50 degree day and I had the heat on. GENIUS! So I turned off the heat and opened the windows.
Fast forward to 11:30 PM. Stewie, who enjoys a good windowsill, wanted to get into the window, and I started snapping pictures, because no one ever believes me when I tell them how TALL this cat is.
He's befuddled by the shade, so he starts climbing the wall.
Okay, freak, get your ass in there.
Well done. So he chills in the windowsill for a while, until I start playing some gothy dance music, which FREAKS HIM RIGHT THE FUCK OUT, and he leaps out of the window. He kind of squeaked, but hey, cats make strange noises, so I didn't really take notice. Until I saw the blood.
BLOOD. ON MY CAT. On his paw! His precious little paw!!! So like any good mama, I freak right the hell out, and…get on Twitter. I know he's ripped a claw, I can see it kind of hanging off his little foot, so I freak out on Twitter about "help help, bleedy cat what do I DOOOOOOOOOOO?" and Twitter was very kind and helpful, so I grabbed a blanket and dove onto the cat.
Did you know that static electricity is attracted to cats and fleece blankets? BZZZZZZ! Did you ALSO know that white upholstry and bleedy cat paws make for a scene out of Cujo? Only with cats? Catjo? You get the idea. And Stewie? My sweet dumb boy? HISSED at me. First time ever. Oh, my poor poor baby. And my poor, poor boob, which he clawed through my shirt, but I know I deserved that for the gothy music. So I'm sitting on the big chair, with Stewie wrapped in the fleece blanket (BZZZZZ!!!) and I'm holding a wet paper towel with a little soap on his paw as I cling onto all 19 pounds of him as he flails like an electric eel (BZZZZZZZZZ!!!!) and holy crap, is that cat strong. Hold on, I have to go check on him RIGHT NOW, cause I hear banging.
Okay, he was bashing his head into the closet. And now he's having a snack. I don't think we're going to have to amputate.
But I'd give forty gazillion dollars for a Xanax, and I'll tell you that much for free.