Oliver here. This is my debut posting and I might have been forced to wait a bit longer had it not been for my amazing flying adventure this weekend.
Before I tell you my story, I must insist that you do not judge my humans. They watch over us like a nervous mother (especially the female human). Only recently, have we been allowed more time to roam the house and freedom from our room but as all cat mothers and many human mothers understand, kittens can move at the speed of sound and keeping us out of trouble is a full time job.
However, I digress….back to my adventure. It was Saturday afternoon and my brother Alberto (also known as Al) was enjoying our freedom. We raced down the hall and chased the evil red dot. We snuck up behind the older cats and softly whacked their tails; we opened cupboards and drawers and had a wonderful time.
There is one place that the female human does not like us to play. There is a short wall in the place the humans refer to as the “living room” (frankly, I find this term silly, don’t they live in all the rooms?). This short wall is above the stairs and along this wall is a wooden railing that is a wonderful place for cats to pussyfoot along. All we have to do to get the female human in a tiz is jump on the sofa and leap up onto the railing. The male human is always telling the female human to calm down and then she reminds him of the two times our Boss Cat, Tucker, sailed over the upstairs balcony (that’s another great story but one I will not tell here).
So Al and I were zipping around and the female human was in the room of food (she calls it kitchen but that’s a dumb name because all the food comes from there) and the male human was on the sofa reading his square, flat device. One moment I was sailing toward the railing and the next moment I found myself downstairs.
I hightailed it behind the downstairs sofa seeking solitude to contemplate this recent turn of events. I heard the flap, flap of feet running down the stairs and when I looked up, the female human was on the floor beside the sofa. The male human arrived soon and they had a bit of back and forth.
“Don’t touch him, he might be hurt.”
“I need to touch him to make sure he’s not hurt and, if he is we need to get him to the vet.”
The female human finally won the argument (this happens quite often) and I felt hands gently moving me from behind the sofa and into her arms. She touched me all over, whispering comforting soft words and kissing my head. Then she scampered upstairs with the speed of a kitten and returned with some lovely smelling, stinky cat food. I gobbled up the offering she extended on her index finger and there was a collective human sigh of happiness.
Very soon, I was stretching, jumping on my brother Al and begging for some more of that wonderful stinky stuff. The male human took a measurement of the distance I flew and pronounced it as fourteen feet (although I’m not sure if he’s talking about human feet or kitten feet). Either way, it was quite the adventure, but not one I care to repeat.
Until next time, this is Oliver signing off…..up, up and away!
P.S. Below are photos of the area where I began my first flight training.
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Oh! Oliver we’re so glad you survived your kitty flight. My mom would worry too what a height to fall from. Maybe your mom should put something up there so you can’t get up better to be safe than sorry. Hugs and Purrs Spike. x😻😻🐾🐾
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