This morning Topaz (the oldest cat) woke me up to play her favorite game. It is the "pounce the moving hand under the pile of blankets" game.
There are two comforters and a heavy blanket protecting the moving hand. She knows it is my hand and doesn't care. She will pounce, jump and dig a the blankets in order to catch me. She has no front claws and is very cute. I love watching the 14 year old cat play like a kitten.
Enter Jo. Yes, he is more or less a kitten still (mentally). He also loves this game. He is a good boy and waits until Topaz is done. Then he pounces the pile of blankets. He does this for a few minutes and then removes the top comforter with his (very much clawed) front paw. The second one follows. Now there is just the heavy blanket protecting my hand from Jo. It is enough protection (it is doubled up).
Deb says something to me at this point and I look up. Silly me. I feel 4 or 5 very sharp Jo claws go into the bottom of my hand. I yell in surprised pain. Bottom? I look and Jo's bottom is up in the air. One front leg is cocked under him. His head is tilted upside down and he has the other paw stretched out under the blanket to catch the offending hand.
Problem solving cat one. Inattentive human zero. I hate playing this game with him.