Warning: do not read while eating or drinking. The laughter resulting from the following post may cause choking.
I walk to the living room. I’m in the middle of writing my novel, and I see my cat, Sweetie, perched on the windowsill. I happily scoop her up and cart her back to my room, because the sun is shinning nicely on my bed, and she could nap there. As I pet her and call her my precious baby, among other things, my mother sings a pretty worship song. All is well. The cat hasn’t even started growling yet.
As I walk into my room, I feel my foot hit something resembling a furry brick. My body hurls forward, and I almost do a face-plant right on the hardwood floor. My other cat, Patches, who was being a helpful cat-brick, starts scurrying away from me, her nails scratching the wood. The cat who was peacefully napping, and then resting in my arms only moments before, does what any cat would do when faced with a desperate situation: jumps.
Sweetie, I can only imagine, went sailing through the air, her pudgy belly being drawn to the floor like a magnet. Her tiny cat arms were flailing, and you could almost hear her say, “Noooooo” as her fate with the hardwood played out in slow motion. Her eyes widen, she collides with the ground and skitters under my bed.
All of this happened within two seconds.
My foot hurts.