Why I love my Siamese

Or, "Trying to explain the claw marks on my arm and chest"

I'm currently all splayed out in the armchair in the living room.  Boo is asleep, Irish Woman is in the other room getting ready for bed, and Girlie Bear just came out for her good night hug.  Just doing a little blog reading and syncing the iPhone before heading to bed.  As the saying goes, I wasn't hurting nobody.

Koshka, she of the fire in her eyes, was sitting on the back of the chair, purring into my ear.  I tossed my head a couple of times while reading to get her to knock it off, which eventually she did.  A moment later, I heard a thump and all of the things on the top of the antique oak china hutch shifted as she vaulted from the back of the chair to its top shelf.

Looking up, I exclaimed "Koshka, get your fuzzy self down from there!".

I swear, if a cat could shrug, Koshka shrugged.  After giving me a baleful look, she launched herself off of the top shelf of the hutch, landing with her back paws on my left arm and her front paws on my chest.  Did I mention her nice, long, sharp claws?  She then re-launched herself halfway across the living room while I tried to get my breath back enough that I could grasp her by her neck and wring it.  Luckily for her, her catlike reflexes are quicker than my catlike reflexes, so she lives to pounce another day.

She and I have come to a detente.  I have agreed to not seek vengeance, she agrees to sit under the reading lamp and sun herself until bedtime.  It's a mutually beneficial agreement.

Now where did I put that Bactine?