Georgie isn't actually my cat: she belongs to the neighbors. But apparently she owns my house, so for 362 nights of the year she sleeps in my arms (the other 3-4 nights, I don't ask; I don't dare ask). Her family doesn't mind much, since they made all their cats move outside over three years ago; they actually think she spends a lot of time at their place.

Georgie is a mean cat because she bites my nose in the middle of the night. My nose, my eyebrow, my cheek, my eyelid, and someday she'll manage to get my lip too, but so far I've always managed to wake up before she bites my lips. I have only two defenses: dive under the covers, which also keeps her from drooling into my eyes--but then she'll just knead the blanket for an hour until I go insane. What works best is the other: grab her, wrap her in my arms and stuff her under the covers with me. Then, she goes limp and purrs us to sleep, preferably with my nose snuggled in her back fur for extra warmth...unless of course, that isn't what she meant to happen, in which I lose blood from my forearms and hands in a manner quite painful. I've also woken up screaming with gouges on my ankle, and I sometimes forget and pet her too long (or something) in the middle of the night, so she is forced to wrap all four legs around my forearm, preventing me from escaping, hooking claws into my wrist flesh, and biting and kick-gouging with the rest of her pointy bits; since I can't unhook myself, my only defense at this point is to cry out in pain, repeatedly, until she decides I've had enough.

Georgie is death to small animals. She was such a good hunter that she had extra to share with me...she'd leave half a mouse for me on the back porch--the front half, so I'd get to see the tiny horrified expression of a mouse that had been bit in half. (It's convinced me: that's not the way *I* want to go.)

When she's really happily mean, she likes to climb up me like I'm a tree, to sit on my shoulders (hanging on with her claws, of course). And bite my hand while I pet her. I tried asking her owner once, had she tried to stop her from biting, and was told it was hopeless. They aren't just love bites, either: when she's really mad, she always breaks the skin; and people are such dreadfully inept petters, she often needs to correct them. No one gets away with just one bite, either.

One might ask: why put up with this abuse. The simple answer is, there's no saying "no" to Georgie--when I first looked at the house with an idea to purchase it, Georgie forced open the door we'd shut behind us and had a look-see with the realtor too. She's also very charming-- half the people on the street want to take her home (little do they know what would be in store for their hands and ankles); more than one prospective catnapper has been seen by another neighbor, luring Georgie with toys and a collar.

The other reason is that her fur is like mink; so on those nights when she's in a cuddling mood, I get to fall asleep with my head on a warm, purring mink pillowcase...it's worth the bloodshed.