It has been a minute since I wrote about my kitten; her name is Lucky Luciano by the way. Ninety-Five percent of the time she is very chilled and relaxed. But every so often she goes ape-shit. For some reason it seems to ramping up the last month or so and I can't figure out why.
1) She jumped through the roof paneling in my laundry room (you know the slide away Styrofoam type) and into the waiting arms of the rafters beyond. She did this at about three in the morning, so when I heard the crash I jumped up like a pirate and ran out of the room in my boxers ready to try out some kung-fu or maybe some wrestling moves from high school. After I noticed my cat was in the roof (and only by seeing her paws on the clear lighting panel was I able to discern it was her) I had to yank her out from the pink fiber glass insulation in order to rescue her. I had fiber glass all over me and had to take a shower. I still dream that I have bits of it in my lungs slowly growing cancer in my chest, but I tell myself that is nonsense and try to go back to sleep.
2) I have a shelf with my sports memorabilia in my library. On the shelf is a signed autograph Hall of Fame football from Jim Kelly (former Quarterback of the Buffalo Bills), a signed helmet of soon-to-be Hall of Fame wide receiver of the Buffalo Bills Andre Reed. Also, on the shelf are several signed pictures of other current Buffalo Bills football players and an un-opened box of every Nolan Ryan card ever. Nolan Ryan is a Hall of Fame pitcher that once beat the crap out of Robin Ventura. See the fight here.
My cat, in all her adorable fury, decided to jump up on this shelf and knock my Nolan Ryan collection off the shelf and shattered the box, leaking my Nolan Ryan cards all over the floor of my library. This one made me hang my head in order to fight off a sense of frustration that threatened to come out in a primal scream. But alas, a cat has no understanding of such things.
3) Same shelf. Different memorabilia. My Andre Reed autograph came with a certificate of authenticity. I have this in a frame accompanying the autograph itself. I hear a crash. I run into the library and see the frame broken on the floor. This shelf is four levels up. I don't understand.
4) I keep my cologne on a dresser about five feet high. I have a bottle of Kenneth Cole I got for Christmas and that I get most years from my Dad. Well, I come home and it smells like the perfume and make-up section of the mall decided to move locations into my house. At first, I thought maybe it was Febreze, but then I realized that this was something different. About three steps later I realized it was, in fact, my cologne shattered on the tile floor of my bedroom. The cat strikes again. Only, I can't even be mad. That is a five foot jump. At least. My cat should be an Olympian. Besides, I was too worried about whether or not she drank my cologne to be mad. I sniffed her chin and paw and, luckily, only caught the feint hint of kitty litter.
Then she licked my nose.
How can I be mad at all, even if I tried it would be futile. She has me wrapped around her finger and I think she knows it.
I just wish I could figure out why she is doing all this jumping after about six years of life of NOT doing it all that often. It’s as if I injected her with catnip. Between the jumping, and her ability to hunt objects and ghosts unseen by my eyes, I think she might be bat-shit crazy. Sometimes she just stares at the wall from two feet away. That is just plain creepy. Creepy cats are a conversation for another day. I would type more but she is sure to find my keyboard so for now I'll sign off.