The Cat Ate My Finger

If anyone ever wanted to torture me with a slow and painful death, all they would have to do is lock me in a room full of cats. Without allergy shots – which I MUST get at some point – I cannot be in the presence of a cat. I value breathing. Plus I have a difficult time with the thought of a cat in a litter box doing his or her business and then jumping on my kitchen counter where food is prepared. I don’t even like stuffed cats. I was, however, a fan of Hello Kitty when I was a little girl. I mean, who didn’t like those tiny pencils and mini-notebooks?

Because I do not have any current experience with cats, this is not my personal story but certainly one worth sharing. A friend of mine who shall remain nameless told me this incredulous and yet hysterically funny story the other day. For the sake of humor, we will call her Kitty.

Kitty messaged me the other day and told me that her cat ate her finger and sent me a picture of her bandaged hand. Curiosity killed the cat so to speak, so I HAD to hear how this possibly could have happened. Initially, I was going to ask her if the cat had died, was buried in Pet Sematary, and came back as Cujo’s sidekick. Kind of like Batman and Robin, but with big gnarly teeth and the ability to trap people in a car for days.

Kitty is one of those people who can make you laugh at the drop of a hat, or should I say, finger. She proceeded to tell me how she was preparing to face her ex in a few days at a deposition for their divorce – she too has a 200 lb hemorrhoid that needs to be removed by a lawyer – and she wanted to really toy with him by having an expensive looking ring on her finger. Of course, with a looming divorce and a daughter in college herself, the expensive ring budget was more akin to the 5 and Dime, not two month’s salary as DeBeers proffers.

Fast forward to her kitchen table where she had to physically cut the plastic coil from the cardboard to which the ring was attached – yeah that’s right, on CARDBOARD – Kitty took a sharp pair of scissors to the plastic “attacher” if you will. She mentioned to me that while she was doing it, she was thinking “this is not a good idea.” Well, “they” say that hindsight is 20/20. Meanwhile, I was having flashbacks of cutting those damn plastic things to release dolls I bought my daughter when she was little. I am of the mindset that they should have a case of scissors next to those things with a sign that says, “Hey, you want the doll? You need these otherwise you’ll be playing with her as she sits in the box.”

Anyways, Kitty proceeded to cut the plastic and gouge a piece of her finger in the process. The chunk of finger literally “flicked” off the scissors in a split second and went flying onto her kitchen floor. She saw the cat pounce and bat at the piece of finger on the floor and for a moment was trying to decide if she should get the piece of finger or stop the profuse bleeding. She decided it better not to bleed to death on her kitchen floor. She had given her daughter all of her first aid supplies for college, so the only thing she could find to stop the bleeding was a maxi-pad. What can I say? Kitty is a midwestern MacGyver.

We laughed about how with kids gone to college, we could choke to death on a Jolly Rancher or bleed to death from a scissor cut to the finger.

No one would ever even know, unless we didn’t show up for work. Kitty drove to work with her head hanging out the window so she didn’t pass out, got to work and her coworkers helped peel the maxi-pad off to reveal “we’ve got a bleeder” and got her to the ER expeditiously.

Kitty conveyed to the Dr that she didn’t get a chance to pick up the piece of finger. He had to, on some level, find this a bit humorous coming from a woman whose finger was wrapped in a maxi-pad. He probably went home and told his wife, “Now I have seen everything.”

Kitty returned home to the scene of the finger carnage. She bent down under the kitchen table to where she knew the piece of finger fell, only to discover that it was no longer in its’ landing spot. The CAT ATE HER FINGER. That is the only plausible explanation. It’s a good thing that modern medicine has come leaps and bounds to where mesh can be used in places to facilitate healing. The scar from this will go in the story books of “tales to tell the grandkids.”

The worst part of the whole story is that the ring cost $25. She really could have used the $25 for a couple of martinis and a box of band aids. Now I know what to get her for Christmas. Kitty, you’re the best.


Connie Bramer
Connie Bramer
Connie Bramer is an entrepreneur, mom, breast cancer survivor, and author of “How Connie Got Her Rack Back,” her comical spin on the journey of cancer. Connie’s mission to help others through her own experiences drove her to found Get Your Rack Back Inc., a not for profit organization that provides financial assistance to cancer patients in Upstate NY. GYRB assists patients – men, women, and children with varying types of cancers – with gas and grocery gift cards as well as medical copay assistance. Connie has been featured in several magazines including Her Life New York and Womenz Straight Talk. As a cancer survivor, Connie was awarded the Hyatt’s prestigious Portrait of Understanding Award. In addition to her inspirational blog, gyrb. She also shares her everyday antics with a snarky sense of humor on her blog, The Humor Of It All. Connie is a contributing author to the inspiring books; Chaos to Clarity: Sacred Stories of Transformational Change and Crappy to Happy: Sacred Stories of Transformational Joy

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  1. Connie, I love your humor not to mention your humanity. What a story! Yes, I loved it. By the way, I love cats. My wife and I have a furry daughter by the name of Juice. Her litter box is nowhere near the kitchen or where we eat. Yes, the litter box upkeep is no always pleasant but it is a small price to pay for all the love and companionship she provides. On another note congratulations on being a cancer survivor. I wish you many more happy and healthy years.