That was BonoCat's contribution to this blog post. He isn't much of a typer, so when he does choose to walk on the keyboard, I feel he does it for a reason. I am pretty sure this is his way of saying that Vertigo is his favorite song.
ANYWAY. I have a lovely story to share today, sadly just a little too late to be a Christmas classic. Instead, it is a story of how my 2011 is not exactly off to a shining start.
In my last post, I mentioned that we are cat-sitting for my sister while she moves. (At least I think I did. If I didn't... we are cat sitting for my sister while she moves!) The kitty in question is awesome because he is the brother of my very own Tallulah Jane, the One Kitten to Rule Them All. We kept him in the guest bedroom, as he is a guest and all.
The first 2 days he was here went fine, but on Tuesday night, he started meeeeooowwwwwing like crazy. He wanted SOMETHING, but we couldn't figure out what. I noticed that he hasn't used his litterbox much, so since he is used to being an outside kitty, I drew the conclusion that he probably really, really wanted to go outside to take care of some stuff, if you know what I mean. So I decided to strap a little leash to his kitty collar and take him outside for a few minutes. At midnight.
This is where the poor decision making happened.
I clipped a leash to his collar (You have a whole collection of random pet products sitting around too, right?) and carried him out the back door onto the deck. I wasn't sure if he would freak out, but he was really excited, and totally ready to go down to the yard. I sat him down and he went straight for the stairs, a little too enthusiastically. I could barely keep up with him!
Until about 3 steps from the bottom, where I stopped keeping up with him, and he pulled me down the stairs.
Just in case you are now thinking that kitty staircase skiing might be an awesome new sport, I should advise you that it is really, really not delightful. But I do applaud your thought process.
So there I am flat on my ass at the bottom of the stairs, crying so loud that the neighbors turned on their lights. I am so not a crier, but a) this hurt like a mofo, and b) I think my body did the whole shock thing, because I was shaking uncontrollably, too. My ankle was OWW.
I sat there sobbing for a few minutes while my mom went in search of an ace bandage, so I could wrap up Mr. Ankle. I was a shaking, sobbing mess. Eventually mom came back down with the bandage, and I slowly, omg-painfully wrapped my ankle up and asked her to try to find the kitty, who took off like a lightning bolt as soon as I went down. I was pretty sure he darted under the storage shed, but she didn't see him, so we tried to figure out how to get me back inside. Mom wanted me to somehow climb BACK up the stairs to her kitchen, cross through the house and then down another set of stairs to my apartment. I pointed out that it would be a whole lot easier if she would just go in and unlock my back door so I could just cross the 100-ish feet from my landing spot to my door.
I ended up using a plastic lawn chair like a walker for the most painful hobble to my door ever while my mom complained that her hair was wet and she was going to catch pneumonia and die. Thanks for the support there, mom. I couldn't figure out why my hippity-hop across the yard on one foot was so HARD. I'm not THAT out of shape, am I? Why was it KILLING my butt? I later figured out ohhhh, yeah, I fell smack on my ass. No wonder it hurts.
After about three years (Happy 2014, everybody!), I made it through the door to my living room and plopped onto the couch, still sobbing. I asked mom to get me some ice while I tried to figure out a way to elevate my foot. I ended up having mom bring me some Tylenol (which I never got around to taking, I hate drugs!), water, a book and my phone so I could call her if I needed something. (She spent most of this time complaining that she was tired and her back hurt. She is SO not good at this!)
I spent the next 3 hours on my couch reading and trying to find a comfortable position. (Hint for future victims of gravity: there are none.)
Around 4am I was so bored and cold (my bedroom stays warmer than my living room, plus I had ice on my ankle.) I decided to try to make my way to bed, and thankfully managed to! And there I stayed for about the next 30 hours straight, except for a couple of so not fun treks to the bathroom.
Bed is AWESOME when you are lounging about by choice, but being stuck there with no way to move blows. I couldn't get up to turn the heat up or down, or put a dvd in, or get food or something to drink, or just to stretch. SO not fun!
This morning I finally managed to hobble around a little, and I was SO HAPPY to be out of bed! Walking still hurts, so I am mostly still staying in bed, but I am delighted to have the ability to move if I really want to!
My sister's cat is still at large. He's been an outdoor cat for his whole life (he's 12), but he has to be cold and hungry and scared! I hate that I can't go out to look for him. I'm hoping he didn't venture far, and will turn up ASAP!
So now that I've spent the first 2 days of the year with the headache of doom, had almost 2 normal days and then spent 2 more immobile, the rest of the year has to be better, right?
Have you had any epic gravity fails lately? Is your year off to a better start than mine?