Almost all my pets fall off buildings at some point in their lives.
It's like an unspoken agreement between them.
An implicit act of... solidarity? rebellion?
Who knows.
But they all fall down.
What makes this that much more ridiculous is that the majority of these tumblers are cats!
In the spirit of that morbid curiosity, which is touted to be the nemesis of the feline, they venture where they shouldn't, perch on precarious walls, and then proceed to roll off them.
Combined with the other unfortunate fact that I have mostly lived in upper floor apartments, this makes for small episodes of pure horror.
Notice cat is missing, search frantically for cat, fail to find cat, realise cat has fallen off building, find cat (often injured or bloody) at bottom of apartment/lower floor, proceed to nurse cat back to health so that you can slap it silly later on.
There was the one that landed on its feet, injured one of them, then crawled under a car to hide, making it that much more difficult for us to find him.
There was the one that fell five floors and smashed up his face so badly that I screamed when I saw him (he recovered, thank God!)
There was the one that fell off the balcony and rolled into the downstairs apartment, kept us up all night searching, then made us stage a daring rescue mission that involved walking across planks.
There was the one that fell four floors and broke his paw, which had to then be put in a cast for a month.
And then there was the genius who fell one floor down to the garden, hurt his leg and broke a tooth. :/
*sigh*
And they say cats are graceful.
It's like an unspoken agreement between them.
An implicit act of... solidarity? rebellion?
Who knows.
But they all fall down.
What makes this that much more ridiculous is that the majority of these tumblers are cats!
In the spirit of that morbid curiosity, which is touted to be the nemesis of the feline, they venture where they shouldn't, perch on precarious walls, and then proceed to roll off them.
Combined with the other unfortunate fact that I have mostly lived in upper floor apartments, this makes for small episodes of pure horror.
Notice cat is missing, search frantically for cat, fail to find cat, realise cat has fallen off building, find cat (often injured or bloody) at bottom of apartment/lower floor, proceed to nurse cat back to health so that you can slap it silly later on.
There was the one that landed on its feet, injured one of them, then crawled under a car to hide, making it that much more difficult for us to find him.
There was the one that fell five floors and smashed up his face so badly that I screamed when I saw him (he recovered, thank God!)
There was the one that fell off the balcony and rolled into the downstairs apartment, kept us up all night searching, then made us stage a daring rescue mission that involved walking across planks.
There was the one that fell four floors and broke his paw, which had to then be put in a cast for a month.
And then there was the genius who fell one floor down to the garden, hurt his leg and broke a tooth. :/
*sigh*
And they say cats are graceful.
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