Daft Joe

I bought the cats some "kitty treats" on Saturday, and (having been confronted by a smiling purring cat lying next to a ripped-open bag once too often - hey, I learn quickly (after four times...!), placed the bag on the top shelf in the living room:

shelf 1: Amplifier (and normally a cat.)
shelf 2: Hi-fi/video gear (no room for cat.)
shelf 3: Videos (occasional cat.)
shelf 4: CD's. Plenty of them. Stacked all higgledy-piggledy, due to... well, just messy. no excuse. And a bag of kitty-treats. Oh yes.

Bag is a self-seal type, so odour should be minimal. I assume that Daft Joe spots bag using optical technology. Jumps on top of nearby speaker (normal path to shelf 3, occasional domain of Coffee Bean.) Instead of the one foot jump to shelf, a mighty leap to shelf 4, domain of cd untidiness and kitty-bits...

Most of DJ's body lands on stacked cd cases, but back legs not quite making contact. They start to spin in circles, shooting CD's and cases across room like a mad, crazed toaster. They really do fly quite well, by the way, especially the rare ones.

Legs run out of CD's. Kitty-treat bag is unassailable, I'm almost choking with laughter, Daft Joe has this oh shit! look on his face, falls backwards and lands on edge of speaker, but instead of doing that twisty stuff he should know about, uses his spine to cushion the blow.

Ouch!

With visions of thousands of pounds being spent on cat wheelchair, poor old Joe, i run over to him. He just gives me this look: Well, actually, I meant to do that, and saunters out of the room. Treading on pretty much every cd, incidentally, but at least he's okay...

Anybody's cats willing to do a mail-order course on "falling-on-your-feet"? Please?

Copyright © Ezz
May 11, 1998