Friday, 26 June 2015
The Downfall of being High Up
Being up high is wonderful until a bad landing brings you down. Let us examine the many reasons that many felines like myself enjoy climbing or jumping to a position of loftiness.
Reason 1: Because we can.
Reason 2: Felines in general should never be looked down on.
Reason 3: If we expect our humans to look up to us, we must put ourselves in a position that forces them to do so, they so often need our guidance, you see.
Reason 4: Because we can.
Reason 5: Why not?
Reason 6: Being high up in a tree brings us closer to possible nests, and therefore fast food in the literal sense.
Reason 7: See reasons 1 & 4.
Reason 8: A higher vantage point affords us a better look around, so we can be ever vigilant against foes crossing into our territory, food crossing into our territory, or more land that will become more of our territory.
Reason 9: Indoors, climbing and jumping allows us to see out of windows that we may not be able to see out of otherwise, and it's more convenient when we're feeling lazy and don't want to have to wait for a human to open a door for us to see what's going on outside, before immediately coming back in, and out, and in.
Reason 10: It allows us to claim things for our own that are special to the humans. After all, they've gone to all of that trouble to position the things up where the mini humans can't get them...but we can.
Now personally, one of my favourite places to sleep is on one of the larger human's over-night bag that is kept packed on the top of the tallest bookshelf. It happens to be positioned between two doorways, and has a perfect view not only of most of the house, but also gives me a vantage point out the front and back doors. Also, no one else comes up here and the mini-humans can't reach, therefore it is mine. Now, I'm an excellent jumper. I don't bother wasting time with taking smaller steps down from most things that I jump and climb on. Instead, I exhibit my agility and prowess by simply jumping all the way down to the ground. I am chagrined to say that this time it has been my downfall.
I am afraid that I landed awkwardly. To tell you the truth, I'm not sure exactly what happened. It's possible that I was distracted by the sound of an opening can or the click of the laser pointer, but I can't say for sure. All I know is that for weeks I haven't been able to walk on it properly. The bad side of this is that felines rarely if ever choose to show any weakness, and I'm afraid everyone noticed right away and made a fuss. The good news is that I've been able to milk this for all it's worth, and the fuss continues. My humans do everything for me now, from lifting me up onto the bed or couch, or a nice vantage point near an opened window so I can smell all the good smells that I'm missing outside, to lifting me down from anything I am up on, just so I don't keep re-injuring my paw.
He he he! The humans even bring me my can of food to wherever I'm sitting or lounging at the time! Now, this is a delicate balancing act that I'm having to maintain. One day I made the mistake of lowering my paw and attempted to limp on it. The humans caught wind of this and the food can was returned to the bowl area because I was "getting better." Well, I made sure to jump down off of something in front of the humans, which put them all in a panic, how grand! Anyway, I was able to resume being tri-pedal, which I've gotten very good at, and the cans have once again come to me covered in salmon oil as my "medicine."
The best part of the whole endeavour was when they took me to the vet. Now, I've seen the other cats in my home become a whirling dirvish of teeth and claws when it comes to the cat carrier, but I like to keep my humans guessing. I watched my older humans worry and stress out about the appointment for days leading up to it. Finally, when the time came, they opened the door to the carrier, ready to force me into it wearing oven mits and arming themselves with a towel. Well, you should have seen the shock on their faces when I simply walked in, laid down, and began to purr. We carried on to the vet, who massaged me, petted me, told me what a good cat I am (of course I am as long as you keep up the petting, bub,) and even took me into a room to take x-rays. It wasn't so bad, all I had to do was lie there (which I would do anyway,) and get stroked and cooed at, and let's face it, who doesn't love that? I was returned to my humans, and then to my home with nothing but a glowing review and a couple of doses of medicine. I even overheard them telling my bigger human to keep giving me the salmon oil! The vet is great. We should go back there more often. I know I'm a good cat. I know I'm simply priceless, so now why don't you do what you do best...feed me.
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