Today I took them out there for half an hour. It was a cool 68 degrees. Mojo was watching the wind. Gunnar was gnawing on leaves. And Ozzy was rubbing against the chairs and jumping on the window sill like usual. And I wasn't really paying attention. I was working on my grocery list.
And then I heard a thump, looked to the left and saw Ozzy hanging off the top of the porch railing. He looked like a grey blob of a tree frog splatted against the side of the railings. He'd tried to jump it and was too fat to get more than a foot high. I mean, thank goodness he's overweight or he could have fallen two stories.
I let out out a dreadful "No" and both the cats ran inside. (This guttural scream was low and sounded like the gasp you'd make when someone died. Really. I don't know where it came from and am not sure I've ever made a sound like it before). Mojo had to be ushered in. And that is the official end of kitty porch time. They have never tried that stunt before. And I won't let them try again.
I know Ozzy wants to be a wild cat, but that fall would be awful. At two stories cats can't right themselves. They get really hurt. I guess he misses the outdoors but I don't know what to do. I tried to talk to him and tell him why he couldn't do that, but he took off like a bat of hell, and clambered loudly down the hall like he does when he's angry. (Kitty equivalent of stomping or slamming a door.)
I found Ozzy downstairs cuddling one of my purple Asics and told him to please not try that again. I didn't want him hurt. And he didn't want to have surgery and where the cone of shame. I tried to make it up to him by playing with his green ribbon, but that ended when Gunnar decided to swat my hand instead of the ribbon.
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| Makeup cuddles with Ozzy after our fight. |
Oh, kitties. So terrible.
Matt says they're terribly cute.
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