I throw cats.
Koko, specifically, when he has crawled onto my pillow for the 18th time at night. He cozies up - stepping on my hair with claws out, breathing as loud as a rabid dragon and somehow always puts his butt right next to my face.
He NEVER gets the hint. So my throws get progressively more violent through the night and into morning. He just waits about thirty minutes before trying again. I don't feel badly about this; there are some sacred things in my world: and the privacy of my pillow is one of them.
Bu-ut I think I went too far just the other morning. Let's just say, without intending to, I threw the cat and hit my daughter.
It was a positioning of events that led to one priceless moment. Ayla just happened to be standing at my side of the bed. She sometimes comes in quietly and stands waiting for me to notice she is there. On this particular day I was wearing a sleep mask and obviously didn't have a clue that Ayla had graced me with her sleepy presence.
The poor girl was staring at me, waiting for an invitation to crawl into bed - and what does she get? Her mother throwing an overweight cat at her!
I knew that something wasn't right when I didn't hear the usual cat-squeak and thud as Koko lands on the floor. Instead, I heard some muffled soft brushing of fabric and then Ayla yelling, "OW! Koko hit me!!!" At least I didn't get the blame!
Luckily, this was a virtually painless incident. (I haven't asked Koko how he feels about it, though.) He didn't have his claws out and seems to have just bounced off of Ayla's fuzzy. No one was scratched or traumatized. Except for me, of course. Only I feel guilty about throwing my cat at my daughter.
Really? Is that how I am going to start my day? Throwing a cat at a toddler?