Last night, in celebration of the “Heat” win I picked up Eleven. She started squirming so I slowly lowered her from my standing position to the hard concrete floor. When I gently lay her down she bit me. I felt it of course, but it was not nearly as painful as when she clawed my thumb on Feb. 25. But,
it bled like a mother. That’s after I washed and dabbed it once. Three minutes later it stopped leaking,
Her teeth are as sharp as her claws and she sliced me badly and cleanly.
Late this morning I took another pic.
And at 5:10 today another. I was trying to get one that didn’t look as bad to send my family.
I didn’t succeed. All the marks there are Eleven. My son said he was “sick” seeing the first bleeding pic last night. I didn’t send the others to my family.
Eleven is unpredictable. I never know what or when she is going to do it. The unpredictable makes you gun-shy. I’m scared to have her near my face for fear she could blind me or cut my carotid.
I love Eleven. I love her less than I did before Feb. 25. I got most of that diminished love back until last night. I still love her, more than I did right after Feb. 25, but less than I did Oct. 23–Feb. 25. I’m scared of her. You can’t really love a thing truly that you’re afraid of.
