My poor cat. It's so unjust. Really.
You see, I went out onto the back deck because the neighborhood cat was out there. The neighborhood cat is a very fat, very friendly tabby cat that roams the neighborhood making friends with everyone, eating the neighborhood rodents and when possible, teasing the poor little critters that are confined inside - like my cat.
So I went out to pet him. He rubbed up against me, he meowed, he purred, he flopped onto his back, he wiggled and squirmed, he let me pat his head and rub his ears.
Then he scratched me!
Stupid cat! It was just a very minor wound - didn't really even bleed. But I was mortified. Appalled. Disgusted. That rotten little feline! How dare he come to my house and scratch me! The nerve!
So I stalked inside grumbling and bitching about how much I really hate cats and what foul creatures they are. I told Dutchess that she too was a cat (which she tends to forget) and that my crabbing also applied to her, despite her current state of innocence. She just looked at me and twitched her ears. I could tell she thought I was crazy.
Throughout the day I reminded her that she was a cat at every opportunity. I was being very unfair. She hadn't scratched me. But I know that given the opportunity, on a whim and for no real reason, she wouldn't hesitate to scratch me and is probably, at this very moment, planning her next attack.
So, even though it's unfair and unjust, even though she hasn't scratched me in over a month (more due to her training me, than my training her), even though she did nothing wrong, even though she had big wide innocent eyes, I know it's just a matter of time.