May 24, 2016
So I was going to write about how I had to take Beau to the vet yesterday because he got an (admittedly much-deserved) swat to his eyeball from one of the cats, but then that pet antic got roundly and solidly out-antic-ed today. Sorry, Beau, your eyeball will be just fine, and you gotta step up your trouble-making game.
I was out back playing with Beau this morning. While inspecting all my newly-planted berry bushes and strawberry plants (they're not dead yet!), I suddenly heard a weird, scratchity-scrambling type noise coming from an...uppish area. It was quite loud and strange. I first looked up at the deck in confusion, then my peripheral vision caught sight of something dropping off the side of the house. It took my brain multiple seconds to process what, exactly, was falling to the ground. Roof shingle? Loose siding? Part of the gutter?
No. It was a cat. A cat just fell out of my house.
Specifically, it was Rey, tumbling out of my bedroom window.
Yes, that one.
So the previous homeowners did that real estate staging thing where you remove screens from windows to make everything look brighter or cleaner or whatever the hell the reasoning is. (Hey, no judgement, I got shamed into replacing a tarnished mail slot pre-listing.) All the single windows (and kid room windows) have screens, but all of the more "impressive" triple and bay-type windows do not.
(The screens are sitting down in storage, waiting for us to get off our lazy asses and snap them back in. Guess who's motivated now!)
I didn't realize -- thanks to the heavy Brown Sadness Curtains we have also yet to replace -- that Jason had cracked open one of our bedroom windows for some fresh air, and I certainly didn't realize that it was open wide enough for one of the cats to slip through, and HOLY MOTHER OF FUCK I definitely didn't realize one of the cats would be stupid enough to be like, OH LOOK WHEEEEEEEE!
I think Rey only intended to climb out and explore the little roof/overhang part of the downstairs windows, and the initial racket I heard was her desperate attempt to UNDO UNDO ABORT ABORT her mistake once she realized it was slanted. But all that really mattered in that moment was that she was now on the ground, on the other side of the fence, surrounded by freedom, terrible, terrible freedom.
(She and Finn are both microchipped, BUT STILL. CAN WE NOT.)
I verrrrrry cautiously moved towards her, mentally begging her to not Pull A Beau and run off, while verbally ordering Beau to not Pull A Beau and dash out the second I opened the gate. (He obeyed. He's really much, much better now.)
Rey was cowering close to the house, frantically inspecting a basement window for a way to get back inside, all I'VE MADE A HUGE MISTAKE. She wouldn't come to me but thankfully didn't run, and after a slow, agonizing, no-sudden-moves crawl through some very damp mulch I got my hands on her. She seemed very relieved and VERY anxious to get back inside, where it's dry and civilized.
I brought her inside and raced to slam that damn window shut before Finn went on a rescue mission -- he was just sitting there innocently on the floor nearby, like, "I told her that was a bad idea."
(He prefers the windows with screens, thankyouverymuch.)
Rey is just fine, by the way. Landed on her feet, literally. Shaken but not stirred, figuratively.
Meanwhile, I need a martini or three.