Scalped

Posted on January 4, 2004 in Cats

Fiona turned just slightly while she was lying on the bed which caused me to notice a patch of bare, pink skin. She did not resist when I examined it more closely. Someone in the family had pulled out an inch long mat of fur, leaving her exposed like a plucked chicken there. Just above it I found a scab, the size and shaped of half a dozen raspberry polyps. She didn’t squeal or squirm. But she couldn’t tell me how it happened or which of her companions had assaulted her.

I suspect Virginia Mew. The two of them have gone head to head a few times. Fiona’s grown bigger than our black cat. In the kitten mind, size means power. Unfortunately, she is also contending with Ms. Mew’s bodybuilder physique, developed when she was a tiny kitten contending with a brother who was a year and a half older than she was. That cat is all muscle and she hones her claws.

Cat claws fascinate me. Made of the same soft stuff as my fingernails and rhinoceros horn. No harder than celluloid. Clear as crystal. Able to cut skin as surely as the finest Scandinavian steel if applied with enough pressure.

A couple of these raked across Fiona’s breast and scalped her to the skin. Now she looks at me like a suffering madonna, regretting her indiscreet challenges but not ending them.