Last week an unfortunate thing happened. It all has to do with trust. Both implicit trust and the complete lack of it.
If Shaun goes to bed before I do, he lets the cats get in bed with him until I come in and put them out. If I don’t, they wake up in the night and fight until they wake us. He always wants them to stay, because it’s me that ends up having to get up. So he hides them and pretends to be asleep when I ask if they’re in the bed. Sometimes he curls around them and covers them with his arms. Sometimes he makes a tent with his knees.
On the night in question, he had Julio squished between his shins. The cats are in on the game, so they always lie incredibly still. I asked if there were cats in the bed. He said no. I looked under the covers but Julio was so far down in the dark that I couldn’t see him.
While I was brushing my teeth I thought I saw something move. I asked again. Shaun said it was his foot. I said that it looked suspiciously like the shape of a cats head. He denied it. I poked it and he reacted. I asked him if he cared if I punched it. He said no. I told him that I was going to punch it hard, so if it was a cat he’d better come clean. He asked me why I didn’t trust him.
So I thumped it and all hell broke loose.
There was howling and Julio came flying out and cowered under the bed. I felt terrible. I was mad at Shaun and I was mad at myself. The stinkest thing about it is that now whenever I approach Julio from above to pat him, he cowers.
Damn me and my fists. Damn Shaun and his lie! I punched the wrong guy.