Many, many moons ago, my ex and I lived in an apartment complex. Sometimes, I would take a walk around the building with my then-cat, Major Thunderpussy, a huge, lovingly docile tiger boy (tutored, of course). On one of those walks, around the corner came a strange cat. Major stopped and grew 14" of hair on his back, and before he could even think about going after the cat, I quickly scooped him up and held him right by my chest.
In a flash, Major was CLAMPED to my face with all four feet!
I rushed to our apartment, screaming, "Charles, Charles, hurry up ---- something's wrong with Major!!!" Ex-man took a look at me and said, "Look in the mirror, because something's wrong with YOU!" There was hardly a square millimeter of my entire face that wasn't covered with a deep, bleeding gash.
Did I seek medical care? (Is that a trick question? Of course not.....)
But we were scheduled to leave the next morning for the Poultry Convention in Atlanta (laugh amongst yourselves, it's a long story) and I went, anyway. I wonder what people thought when they saw this young "lady" with her face swelled like a hot-air balloon, with big, thick scabs and eyes that could hardly be opened a squint to see.
Charles treated me soooo gooood that week. Well it might have been because I threatened to tell people HE did that to me......