The events of the last few days lead to only one logical conclusion: our cat is a Ninja.
Our second story apartment has two balconies, one off the bedroom and another off our living/dining area. Both of them are netted in to keep birds out and pets in, so I've always considered them a safe place for both Coryn and Kamikaze to play. Yesterday morning, however, Coryn comes to me in a panic.
“Mommy! Kazi! Kazi!” She took my hand and pulled me out onto our living room balcony and pointed through the mesh. There, on the four foot wide ledge, was Kamikaze, on the wrong side of the netting.
“Meow,” said Kazi, looking innocent and lost. I carefully inspected the mesh, finding no cat sized holes. I checked around the edge for gaps. Nothing. Realizing that she could've gone through in the bedroom and walked around to the living room on the ledge, I checked the bedroom. No holes there. Now what?
Cats stuck in trees, call the fire department. Cats stuck on ledges? Call in the Marines! Well, a Marine. I just happen to have one handy.
After a few attempts I got a hold of Matt at work. Now, Matt has not been on speaking terms with Kamikaze since she chewed through the cord for his computer headset (among other things, she's a destructive cat.).
“Is she meowing?” he asked.
“Not at the moment,” I said. Actually, she was taking a nap, but I wanted my cat back.
“Hopefully she stays there,” he grunted. Finally he agreed to come home. Matt suggested she probably got out through the un-screened window in the laundry room, but she didn't seem to be able to jump back inside, in spite of my coaxing and pleading.
Meanwhile, Kamikaze had discovered this new perch put her within hissing distance of birds. She sat there “Merrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrowwwwwing” at a large crow who sat just out of reach. Finally, one of her victims, a smaller, black and white bird, had had enough. It launched itself at her dive bomb style, pulling up just inches from her (now cowering) kitty head. For the first since the beginning of her high wire adventure, Kamikaze looked ready to be rescued.
“How are we doing this?” I asked.
“I figured you could climb through the window and hand her in to me,” Matt said casually.
“Me?” I asked.
“Yeah, I can't fit through the window.” This was true. Still, I had expected Matt to draft me into cat rescue ops. It was actually pretty uncomfortable, getting through the window, but I managed, and a four foot ledge makes the second story seem pretty tame. I fetched her, handed her back in to Matt, and grabbed onto his shoulders so he could hoist me back in. Safe inside once more, I cuddled my kitty, feeling pretty good about the whole thing. I made sure to keep the laundry window closed after that.
Then, this morning, I realized the cat was missing. . .
I found her, again on the ledge, this time with the window still closed. Frustrated and not wanting to call Matt home again, I opened the window and started looking for something to put outside so she could climb up. . .
“Meow,” Kamikaze said, right in my ear. I turn around and there she was, sitting right on the window seal beside me.
“Now why didn't you do that yesterday?” I groaned. Kamikaze just looked smug.
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