Please Stop Biting Me; It Really Hurts

Spring is finally here!

Birds are chirping, trees are just starting to grow leaves again, and everyone is in a great mood.

When I think of spring, this is what I think of:

Image: Property of Disney

Side Note: If you have not seen Bambi, I don't want to talk to you. Last week I tried to explain the concept of being "twitterpated" to two different people, neither of whom had seen the movie. Please remove yourself from under the rock that has become your home, and watch, arguably, the best Disney movie of all time.

For the rest of humanity, I am sure you will agree that this is a pretty accurate description of spring.

Well, not for Kitten.  Kitten has become the spring scrooge.

Not so long ago, my relationship with Kitten went a little like this:

Now, it is like this:

(Source)

Have you ever lived with a Chupacabra lurking somewhere in your home? I have, and it sucks.

Seriously, Kitten has gone nuts. He spends most of the day hiding behind something, one eye peaking out, just waiting for the right moment to attack. I am not going to pretend that Kitten hasn't always been agressive, but his anger has escalated to a whole new level. His outbursts used to be tied to something obvious, like being brushed or having his nails cut. Now things like going to bed and sitting down send him over the edge.

I do, however, think that I have determined the cause of his anger. 

Recently, Kitten has undergone a pretty significant life change; he had no bed to live on or under for a week and a half. And by "he", I mean me, but Kitten still fails to grasp the concept of ownership. Though I guess maybe I also fail to grasp the concept of ownership since, technically, it wasn't my bed either. 

In summary, so as not to bore you with the details of my personal life, Ex-Boyfriend finally moved into a place that did not come furnished and repossessed his bed and dresser, leaving my bedroom a barren wasteland of cat-hair-tumbleweeds and bags of clothing. 

This apparently had a much more significant impact on Kitten than I would have anticipated. The removal of furniture from the bedroom somehow transformed Kitten into some kind of feral monster. It was like the bed was his one true link to domestication and without it, he was lost.

I tried to get a picture or video of him in crazy-mode, but I pretty much had to fend for my life during these breaks with reality.

Though if you look closely, you can tell from his posture that he is in fact ready to defend his new found wilderness (aka the place I once called  my bedroom). 

This position means I am about to hurt you.

The worst part was that I had to sleep on the couch during this transitory stage and Kitten really did not like that. Every time I would go to lie down for the night, Kitten would full-out attack. Like an I-am-going-to-draw-blood-and-make-you-wish-you-never-owned-me type of attack.

My new bed and dresser finally came this past Friday and Kitten definitely seems a little better.

He has slept on the bed with me very peacefully for the past few nights. I am hoping its presence has reminded him of his domestic roots. Please wish me luck.