Poor Ethan. Yesterday he had the choice of staying and playing at the neighbors house, or coming with me to an "end of the school year social" at my teaching partner's house where there would be no kids, except two babies, eight grown-ups and a dog and cat. He, of course, chose Diane's so he could play with the cat and dog. When we got there, the dog was locked up because he tends to sneak out if the door is opened, but the cat was sitting in the living room. Nothing is more tempting than other people's cats. Some of my favorite memories include friends/relatives cats. My Aunt and Uncle, Buster (yes that's his name) and Joyce had a big black cat. Not big like my dead, 25 pound big, fat kitty, but BIG and shiny like a panther. His name was Poor George, not George, but Poor George because George became "Georgina" early in life, hence changing his name. Kind of like Max/Maxine. George purred so easily. He'd sit by me, his head even with mine and we'd share popcorn, chips, what ever snack Joyce had given us. He was so silky. When I was a little older, like pre-teen age, I would sit on the couch with George in my lap, petting him as Joyce pet my hair as if I were the cat. The other irresistible cat was Stacy's cat. She is 21 years old! I really didn't know cats could live that long. I saw him last summer and was told by Stacy's mom "DON'T TOUCH THE KITTY!!!" As if MY germs are going to kill the antique cat. Anyway, her cat was a blast growing up. If we weren't dressing her up in doll clothes, putting baby bonnets on her, shoving our toes in her mouth saying "bite my toe kitty, BITE MY TOE", we were watching her stalk and attack the invisible mouse. Kitty was so much fun. Kitty and I, and later Stacy's children shared the same pet name from her dad, "Rufus". As in "What's up Rufus?" "Knock it off Rufus", "Are we feeding Rufus?" I bet you can't tell which one was meant for me or the cat?- Ya, me either, I always had to look at him to see who he was talking to, kind of like in my classroom when I have two Chris' or Hunters. Anyway, Ethan went up to the cat to pet it and I went to get an alcoholic slushy. Immediately I hear an ear piercing "NO! OWWW!!!" The cat bit Ethan on his non-broken arm. He has six puncture wounds. Diane cleaned it and put on band-aids, apparently better band-aids than we have because her don't hurt when they come off, gave him two cups of dip and dots and a Gatorade. He still said he was glad he went to the party. We went to Noah's baseball game, (in which MY BABY made a run) and he was playing with another kid and I noticed he stopped using that arm. I bought him a hotdog and he had a really hard time eating it since he couldn't move either arm. I took him home, had him soak the arm in the tub with soapy water, put neosporum on it and fresh band-aids. This morning he said it hurt, I took off the band-aids, which was very traumatic, and cleaned it and put new neosporum on. As I was doing this he was crying and screaming bloody murder. I asked him if there is anything that would make him feel better. I was thinking, a Popsicle, ice cream, Tylenol... He answers sniffing, "A new puppy..." "We are not having four dogs." "A new kitten then. We'll train him not to bite..."
I called ask-a-nurse and she said he should go to the clinic. I took him to the pediatric walk in clinic and got in right away, the whole ordeal took less than a half hour!! They gave him a shot of antibiotics, in his "good leg", (I had no idea he had a "bad leg") put some numbing cream on it, cleaned it and wrapped it up. We left with a prescription of antibiotics and got some ice cream. Bad things run in three, so I am a little worried about what injury he'll have next. So far my first week off has sucked more than the school year. Hopefully it drastically improves.