On Cats

I was perusing some news sites today, sitting with a cat in my lap when I hear a rattling sound come from the other room.

Now this didn't seem at all odd, since the other cat was somewhere out there, very likely getting into the boxes and boxes of Christmas decorations we just recently pulled out of the attic for his little kitty amusement.

Although, after about twenty minute of only the same periodic sound, I became worried. Like the sudden silence of children out of sight, a cat only making one mischievous noise for any extended period of time can only spell certain doom for you or your possessions.

Yeah.

Turns out he managed to clime a series of open plastic storage bins to the bookshelf, where I assume he crossed the treadmill front display like a bridge to the cardboard box stored on top of two medium sized plastic tubs.

The empty cardboard box. That's three feet high. With an open top.

Yeaaaaaahh … I ended up having to approach the wiggling box and verify that there was no cat on either side of it, that it was still tiny paws scratching the sides of this box that made the noise I was hearing and, ultimately, that the box weighed about seven pounds more than an empty box should.

And son of a bitch, when I took the box down and tipped it over and opened the top … nothing. Damned cat didn't even feel like coming out after all that. Had to claw him out myself. God, I love those little bastards.