I haven’t really talked about our cat much. I don’t want to be *that* guy. You know the one. The guy who… talks about his cat. I don’t know why. I guess it’s because I’ve always thought cat people were weird, which is saying something because I am really weird. I’m among the weirdest people I’ve ever met, that’s for sure.
Anyway, we got a cat. Noah named her Rusha.
And I suddenly understood all too well why cats are just about the best, most annoying, most entitled, most endearing, most playful, most jerk things ever.
Still, I hesitate posting much because I don’t want to be *that* guy. You know the one. The guy who… talks about his cat.
But this needs to be talked about.
Oh, ma gerd. I can barely say it…
My cat is after my nipple.
Do you see this photo?
I took that picture just one hour ago as Rusha sat perched on the arm of my chair, staring at my nipple, waiting for the right moment to pounce and rip that thing right off. She is determined.
It all started three days ago when I was sitting in a pair of sweatpants late one night, shirtless, watching a Friends rerun on Netflix. Rusha was sitting across the top of my legs as she does so often, when she suddenly noticed it.
She just stared at it.
And I got a bad feeling.
A really bad feeling.
Suddenly her posture shifted into something much tenser. Her head lowered. Her shoulders raised. Her eyes hyper-focused on my nipple. And she set back even further as if ready to pounce on a passing rodent or laser dot.
“DAH DAH DAH! Don’t even think about it!” I said sharply, suddenly fearing that I would lose my nipple for the second time. By the way, “dah dah dah!” is what we say to her instead of “no.” She just responds to it for some reason.
But this time she didn’t. Instead, she remained hyper-focused, ready to ambush.
I promptly removed her from my lap, thus removing from her gaze the all-important stimuli, which had suddenly captured her attention.
I thought that was the end of it. I thought she would promptly forget about my nipple.
I thought wrong.
From that point on, she became obsessed with it. Any time I have been shirtless since, she has come looking for her next chance to take the nip down.
No, looking isn’t the right word.
She has come nipple hunting.
At least five times over the past three days, I thought I was completely alone, only to catch a glimpse of Rusha in my peripheral vision. Hunched. Staring. Barely visible. Often under a cushion or blanket. Sometimes on the arm of my chair. Always staring. Always planning. Always looking for that one chance to pounce and TAKE MY NIPPLE DOWN!
At first it was funny. I admit; I laughed a lot.
Now, I’m sincerely terrified.
I feel like I can’t sit around half-neckid anymore.
I feel like I can’t slumber off for a quick cat nap like I so often do. Pun unintended.
I don’t feel safe in my own home.
I feel like I can’t let my guard down for even one moment.
Not while my shirt is off. Not with my upper half exposed. Not when the truth is staring me right in the nip. The truth that says…
All it takes is once. Just one unsuspecting, complacent moment… And my nipple will become shredded meat.
So do me a favor. Think positive thoughts. For my nipple.
I’m not sure how long it has left.
Dan Pearce, Single Dad Laughing