In my life, I’ve de-burred razor sharp pipes and conduits but the most dangerous thing to de-burr is your cat. I should have worn my pair of Kevlar cut gloves but foolish me thought the simple act of pulling burrs from my roommate would have had him purring. I was wrong, all I got was furious claws and a couple of chomps from his fangs.
Toonce chose to be out all night after I fed him his late supper. As he exited he meowed, “Thanks for the grub. I’m really getting tired of the same stuff. Go and get me something different.” I replied, “I know you are getting tired of it sir. I’ll go tomorrow and find something more to your liking sir.” (Shhh, He can be so demanding. That’s between you and me.) This morning he returned at 6am and began his infernal scratching at the door. “Okay! I’m up. I know you want in but I didn’t get back till midnight. I’ll let you in but please stop.” He walked to his bowl and meowed, “I thought I said I was tired… Oh forget it, do it later.”
A few moments later he was on the bed looking for a lengthy chin scratch. That’s when I noticed he was covered with burrs. “Where were you late night?” I began to pick the prickly burrs off him. He actually enjoyed the attention until he had had enough. That’s when it went all bad. He reached around and gave me a couple of swats and a bite. I yelled out, “Why Toonce Why!?” Anyway, the intensive care unit doctors says I’ll be back on solid foods in a few weeks and tomorrow they will take that tube out of my throat. A few months of rehab and I’ll be able to use my left arm somewhat. I tried so hard and all I got were claws and fangs of fury… This too will pass