Hank and the Rotton, No Good, Very Bad Night

Hank and I had a less-than-pleasurable weekend together. He is usually a very sweet child. Only not this weekend. On Friday night I was trying to walk out of my house and Hank was hovering by the door. Sometimes he likes to run out when I open it, and I didn't have time to mess with that foolishness. So, I put my foot out as a barrier to keep him from running out. Only guess what? He doesn't appreciate being shooed with my foot. I think he thinks it's disrespectful and IF he were a person, he'd be right. Nobody has bothered to tell him he's a cat yet. I blame myself. Since he is a cat and can't use his words, he showed me his displeasure another way...he wrapped himself around my foot and put all of his claws and teeth into whatever he could sink them into. Mostly my foot and leg. Luckily the leg was covered with pants, but the foot was not so lucky:

Then on Saturday night I came home late. Like 11:30ish late. Hank must have been lying in wait for me because the second the door opened, he zoomed out. I had my hands good and full and could do nothing about it. So, I came inside, put down my load and went back out to go find him. Usually, he will run out into the yard and sniff around the flowers for a minute and I can scoop him up while he is busy investigating. Not this time. This time he ran from me when I got close to him. He would only run just out of reach and wait for me to get close to him again. Then when I got within reach, he'd run a few more yards out of my reach. I was not saying kind, loving, be like Jesus words at that moment. Also, keep in mind that I was still really upset with him from the night before. I probably spent one minute trying to get him and then I told him he could stay out all night for all I cared and went inside. I fully expected him to be meowing at the door in a few minutes. He typically gets nervous about being outside within 5 or 10 minutes. I checked about 15 minutes later and he was nowhere to be found. I shut the door and went to bed. At 8:00 yesterday morning I woke up and when I didn't hear the tinkle of his collar outside my door, I remembered that I left him outside. I opened the front door and he ran in like a shot. He was not pleased. Apparently, it's colder outside than inside and there are no food and water dishes always full for the eating. Also, there are no warm, soft blankets and beds and couches to sleep on out there. I laughed at his displeasure. He ran straight in and got food. He hadn't eaten the night before because he ran off before I could feed him. Then he went to my room and promptly passed out on my bed. I giggled in delight to think that he was probably a nervous wreck and didn't sleep a wink outside.

Only as he was lying there I noticed that he was not my white kitty but a much dingier, grey cat. I delighted even more in thinking about how much he was going to hate the bath he was about to get.

He was very upset and tried to lick himself dry. You can already see how much whiter and porcupine-like he was. And once he dried, he practically sparkled:

After his most traumatic day, he has cooled his jets quite a bit and we are friends again.