Gerald's Razorblades

I've had Gerald since the summer of 2008, when he showed up at my doorstep each night, with his cat companion Jack. Every night he would show up at my doorstep, sleep on my chair, and catch bugs and mice on my porch. After a few weeks of taking care of Gerald, Diddy finally told me that Gerald was actually Heathcliff, the infamous cat who traveled to Georgia. When Krystyn moved out of our development, Heathcliff escaped the apartment and wound up showing up at my doorstep. Since she wasn't allowed to have cats in her new apartment, I gladly took Heathcliff in, renaming him Garfield (since I was convinced that was his name to begin with. G, as he quickly became known as, soon became Gerald, when I realized that he looked like a butler in his new black collar with bow.

Gerald has big pointy fangs and razor sharp claws, which he enjoys using on humans, his tail, and his cat roommates Sasha and Zonks. He often finds himself in some type of trouble, such knocking over Toad's cage (my pet mouse...RIP), breaking the glass cage on the ground in the middle of the night. Of course he really means no harm, he's just a stupid boy cat (as Rachel likes to call him).

His new favorite game is playing "tag" with Sasha, which means that he chases after her across the house until Sasha hides and Gerald wins. A few weeks ago, he decided to play the game at 3AM, (when Rachel and I were sound asleep) and wound up chasing Sasha under the bed. Instead of going under the bed with Sasha, he dove on top of the bed (with claws out) and landed on the back of my head. Of course I woke up in a panic, waking Rachel up in the process.

The last incident was nothing compared to last night, which resulted in my face becoming a bloody mess. Moments after Rachel and I laid down to get some sleep, Gerald and Sasha decided to play "tag." Gerald chased Sasha under the bed and then leaped onto the bed, landing on my face...with his claws out. One of his claws (not sure which one since he has four sharp feet) slid across my forehead, leaving a one inch laceration on my forehead.

I immediately threw my hands to my face and had the sick feeling of my fingers being wet, with obviously my own blood. Rachel escorted me to the bathroom, with all of the lights off so that I wouldn't freak out from the sight of my own blood. The wound actually starts at my hairline, but doesn't get bad until above my eyebrow.