Amy writes, "I've owned or lived with a lot of cats in my life, but these are the only two I've ever maimed to make them better suit my needs." Not to make light of her kitty trauma, but because I'm a twisted perv I immediately think, "Mmm. Maimed to suit my needs." And also I can bring anything back to Spike.
Declawing cats has an easy parallel in defanging vampires. Or chipping them, "neuturing" them. On the dark side of the moon that hangs over my nightly fantasy world is a whole sadoscape of cruelty where I collar Spike and snip his...maybe I should say claws. Castration fantasies are so extreme. I cycle back and forth between fantasies of cruelty and stories of comfort. Brutal hurt, infinite comfort, usually from the same person. I just tweak the fabric of the universe and the depraved master becomes the tender lover. But I hate to read stories of cruelty that don't end in comfort, that don't have that rescue-and-rehabilitation pay-off, love. I'll imagine them at great length, but in writing it depresses me immensely.
Which is why I'm both dark and fluffy, like the kitten of doom.
Meanwhile, if I press this button, the temporal accelerator carries me forward at a velocity of one minute per second. In about seven minutes it will be time to go home. Yay!
::wakes up, looks around office, grumbles::