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Wednesday,
April 13, 2005
Have I mentioned that I want to kill my cat?
Well, no, not MY cat -- MY cat is JJ, and he is a black velvet purrmonster of a treasure.
No, it's Jordan, Lyndon's little tuxedo cat, who is going to give me a heart attack one of these days. JJ and Jordan are both indoor cats because we live in a second-floor apartment, so the only times they get to go outside is if I let them roll around on the front porch or leave the kitchen door open so that they can go on the balcony.
In re: our balcony, we have a sturdy wooden railing with uprights that are just big enough for the cats to stick their heads through and watch the world go by. All well and good, right? Except that over the last couple of days, Jordan's been trying to jump to the top of the railing, and one time actually managed to climb onto the jutting brickwork past the balcony (it's spring, there are lots and lots of birds around, you do the math). I quickly jumped up and grabbed him, but promtply discovered that I had to split my attention between what I was doing on the balcony (working on a dollhouse at the moment) and making sure that Doofus doesn't try to go exploring and fall two stories as a result.
So, last night I'm trying to paint siding and growling "NO!" at Jordan every time he looks like he's about to jump. The little turd kept giving me dirty looks, and finally curled up under the table at my feet. I thought all was well, until I looked down and saw him squeezing through the bloody uprights in his never-ending quest to kill himself.
He's lost balcony privileges for the time being. And the neighbors probably think I'm an abusive mother who keeps shouting at some poor child named Jordan. Oy.
And in other good news
We got the tax returns from our CPA -- we're getting money back from the Feds and Georgia, and everything will be e-filed tomorrow, so there is much relief in the Fletcher household tonight