Attack of the Chubby Puma

Warning:  This post contains depictions of graphic violence, language suitable for a seasoned sailor or restaurant employee, and should be read with caution by anyone with even a slight prejudice against felines.

This morning, I was viciously attacked by one of our cats: Chloe.  This post could have been titled "Holy sh@t!!", "Jesus Christ!!" (a la Monty Python - watch to at least 1:00), "F#ck me, did you see that?!", or several other choice phrases too foul to mention here - all of which were uttered during the wholly unprovoked assault this morning.

First, a little background for those who are unfamiliar: Chloe is the first cat we've ever seen who is either bipolar or schizophrenic, or possibly both.  We first saw this behavior about a year ago -  that saga, while worth telling, is far too long to go into now.  Suffice to say that she got a whiff of a strange neighborhood cat at one point, and this turned her into Evil Chloe, complete with death wails, hissing, howling, and all other manner of malevolent behavior. 

Over the next year, Evil Chloe would emerge periodically, usually without apparent provocation.  Chloe's future with our family was looking bleak at best.  Then we moved to our new house, and this seemed to give her a new lease on life - we hadn't seen Evil Chloe since the move (back in October 2010).  Until this morning.

Just like before, there was no reason for her Mr. Hyde-like transformation.  All seemed calm as she was quietly sitting on my lap, and then I did the unthinkable: I stood up.  This precipitous action was apparently too much for her fragile emotional equilibrium.  I wish we could have somehow captured the next few seconds on camera, but Kristen and I were totally unprepared for the explosion of violence that followed. 

Imagine, if you will, a creature that was somehow created by crossing a mountain lion with a flying squirrel - she sprang off the couch at least 3 feet in the air, from a complete standstill no less, limbs splayed outward, claws extended, teeth bared, hissing for all she was worth, desperately looking for a target for her elemental fury.  I searched for a while online to find something similar - the closest I could come to the image burned indelibly in my brain is a mix of these two:

Needless to say, this is the moment that choice phrases began streaming out of my mouth as I frantically groped for the nearest object with which I could defend myself.  Armed with my trusty throw pillow, I prepared for battle.  Fortunately, after one whack from the pillow Evil Chloe decided that discretion is indeed the better part of valor, and slunk under the couch to hiss and growl undisturbed. 

After my adrenaline finished spiking and my heart rate slowed to a semi-normal level, and after Kristen could stop laughing uncontrollably from her front row seat where she had been nursing our infant son, we decided to banish her to our mostly-unused third bedroom for now until we can figure out a better course of action.  All our other animal kiddos seemed to breathe a collective sigh of relief as soon as the monster was safely sequestered.  Every now and then one of them will go over and sniff the door, which will prompt another round of death howling, hissing, and growling.  I'm not sure how this situations is going to be resolved, but Chloe's future with us is looking grim indeed.