Abby says - Thank goodness for first aid training

There I was, sitting at the netbook with these two books and getting ready to post about soil preparation and what happens during the 8th week of pregnancy (here's a hint:  nausea and being gassy cover just about all of it)

when my dear husband hands me this ball of soft fuzzeh kitteh

This is Ernie.  He gets into ALL the trouble.

I am to hold Ernie while Tim fixes the screen above the kitchen sink.  If not, Ernie will attempt to escape, and then be eaten by the feral kittehs in the alley.  For reals.

I have bad timing.

Me:  Can I let him go now?  He is squirmy.
Tim:  Yes, I got it.  Oh no wait I don't.
Me:  Too late, he escaped.  One sec, I'll grab hi-
Tim:  *Loud yelling, cursing, manly sounds of pain*
Ernie:  *screaming cat noises.  These are the worst ever.*

Turns out, Ernie was way faster than I.  As he almost got out the window, Tim grabbed him and the window shut on Ernie's paw.  Ernie was terrified and in pain and commenced to bite the everloving crap out of Tim's hands.  Blood was everywhere.

After a zillion apologies, good first aid training (thank you Girl Scouts), and lots of kitty treats, both husband and cat are doing fine.

My boys are survivors!

We'll call the doctor in the morning to see if he recommends antibiotics for Tim.  We're keeping an eye on Ernie, and so far he's not limping.  We'll call the vet tomorrow for their recommendation as well.

So, tomorrow (for really reals!) I'll be posting about preparing soil for our garden and the weird but true stuff going on in my god pod.

Goodnight, folks.


P.S.  The entire time I'm trying to get Tim to sit down and apply pressure to his bandage, he's trying to find Ernie to make sure he's alright first.  DAW!