Cat-astrophe

This may be something you cat lovers already knew, but I didn’t. So in case it’s new to you, too, I’m sharing it here. I’ve had cats since I was six years old. Now most of my cats have not been as active as Duncan is. He’s a ball of energy. If I could hook him up to a generator, I’d have lights for a year. He’s got these feather wand toys that I bought at PetSmart that he absolutely loves. They can be interactive toys, but he also plays with them by himself. He even drags them up and down the stairs. And entertains himself when we are upstairs in my office, and when I’m away at work. Last night when I got home, the first thing I noticed was that he wasn’t at the back door. Normally, he hears the alarm being turned off and runs to the kitchen door to wait for me, chirping and telling me about his evening. I had to call him, loudly, several times. Even when he’s upstairs, asleep, he never fails to come to my call. This time, he finally came, after about five shout-outs. He came from Robert’s room. I was …

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Something Reminded Me of This.

And its too good not to share here. My boss got stuck in the elevator a few weeks ago. And she is a partner in the law firm where I work, fully capable of suing the dogsnot out of anyone she chooses. What did our building management do? (I didn’t hold my breath, since blue is not my color.) They gave us all a “seminar” on what to do when the elevator breaks down. Apparently, you don’t die of a crush injury when the elevator comes crashing down on you; rather, according to these learned elevator technicians, since the elevator has counterweights on it, you’ll apparently fly up to the car’s ceiling and be mutilated there. Thanks, guys, I REALLY need to know that! Personally, I think they should have just shown us the old poster from the 60s about what to do in the event of a nuclear bomb. Remember, “bend over and….” — well, you know how the rest of it goes….