He likes his toys all tied together, catnip dragon, ball of wool in velvet, Christmas scrunchie he found under the chair and Miss O'Dyne's lovely bird feathers arranged to look like the real thing.
So he had good fun screaming round the lounge room and throwing feather toy and leaping like 10 lords a dancing until he was exhausted and landed on my foot.
Ten minutes later I look down at my foot and there is a river of blood flowing into my crappy old thong. It went through the holes and spread and kept spreading and flowing.
I'm still trying to get the stain out of my rug. I had to hip hop over to my bag and get an antiseptic wipe and the river is still flowing. All he'd done was prong me with the tip of his claw but it had pierced a little vein and it was everywhere. Not an artery, too dark for that, just a vein and I had felt nothing.
Good thing I'm used to the sight of blood and it is time the thongs went into the bin. The cat never opened an eye or offered to help.