Cat Fell out of Window, Still Has Eight Lives Left
by Mallary Tenore Tarpley
My landlord finally put screens in my windows yesterday, so I naturally had all of the windows open last night. For a year, the screens have been broken, so I was looking forward to taking advantage of a cool breeze and fresh air. I didn’t expect, though, to wake up at 5:15 a.m. to see my furry feline halfway up the second-story window, her claws dug into the screen — the outside of the screen, no less.
“Clara!” I said. “Get off of there!” Mind you, that may not have been the smartest advice I’ve ever given.
If only Clara’s claws were stronger.
If only the screens had been securer.
If only I had woken up before she managed to sneak out the window and up the screen.
I quickly shut the window, put in my contacts and rushed outside. “Clara!” I called out in a high-pitched voice. I felt like the mother rabbit in my favorite childrens’ book, “Runaway Bunny,” searching all around for my adventurous little one. Clara always comes when I call her. Not this time. After five minutes of calling and no response, I started to get teary-eyed.
It was dark and I didn’t have a flashlight, so I couldn’t see anything amidst the dog cage, the furniture and the lawn ornaments that cluttered the ground at the foot of the window. The screen laid on top of the dog cage, bent and broken.
“How could I have let her stay by the windows?” I thought, getting mad at myself. “And why did she have to be such a daredevil?”
I figured she had fallen, hurt herself and hidden somewhere to die.
The neighborhood cat, Skittles, approached me, as if to keep me company. But I didn’t want to see her. In that moment, second best wasn’t enough.
I knew it was Clara’s cry. I knelt down and saw two green eyes staring at me from underneath the house. “Clara, get over here,” I said, partly mad but mostly relieved. She decided to play hide and go seek. She’d come out for a minute, then run away when I tried to grab her. The only thing she would come out for was Skittles, who initially hissed at her but then kissed her to try and make it all better.
I ran upstairs to get food, thinking that would attract her, but had no such luck. (Of course, Skittles wanted some food, though.) The next time Clara came out to see Skittles, I grabbed onto her, swooped her into my arms and tried to not get scratched. She was not a happy kitty.
Clara’s currently strewn across the kitchen table, just barely keeping her eyes open. She knows she’s not allowed on the table, but I’m letting her rest there this morning. She’s had an eventful day so far, and being on the table is her way of letting me know she wants to be close to me. I can’t deny her of that closeness, especially not after this morning, when she seemed so far away.
Oh yes, and those windows? Unless the landlord secures them, they’ll be shut from now on. The fresh air was nice for a night, but Clara only has eight more lives to live. I don’t want to risk having her lose another one.