When I heard the crash, it scared the bejeez out of me! I followed the sound and found myself in the living room with the sight full in front of me, and Patsy beside my prized blinged-up hurricane vase sitting “statue cat” (that’s what her dawdy says). Broken glass was shattered across the floor and Patsy came over to side rub my leg before sauntering back to her favorite hiding place.

At the age of six Patsy still loves to jump up on the mantle and lay across it pretending to be a lioness on a cliff looking down on the valley calmly awaiting the king of the jungle to return from his hunt. Between the age of two and three she could fly. I promise you! I am not lying. I left the living room one day only to return with Patsy on the top ledge of our built-in book case that reaches to the top of the vaulted ceiling, which equates to about twelve feet. I was just about to call the fire department to come and rescue her but decided to climb up on the first landing to try and retrieve our flying cat.

I was successful in getting her down from her perch without killing myself in the process and determined a strategy to prevent that from happening again. Four or five strategies later and she finally became bored with flying. I was thankful for the added years to my life it has probably given me.

She takes much more joy in jumping up on the landing and climbing behind books with only her face to be seen than she does flying. She thinks she’s invisible and this is her hiding place. It doesn’t seem to bother her one bit that she knocks all my nick-knacks, candles and pictures over trying to get to her hiding places. But if it brings her enjoyment I’ll just deal with it.

This cat has brought so much life into the house it’s just unbelievable. We rescued this kitten from being giving to God knows who. We just couldn’t see this precious Himalayan being given to just anyone, so we told my daughter that we’d take her.

The first day with this precious little kitten should have taught me what life was going to be like with a cat, but no . . . I would need many more cat lessons before I concluded—she’s a cat!!! Thanks given to Mike Kirby for telling me that via a Facebook post of her peeking from behind my books on said bookcase.

It had been so long since I had had a cat that I forgot that they sleep most of the day and it is usually in a place where they feel most secure and most likely a place where no human being can retrieve them if there were to be an emergency exit needed.

Day one with the new kitten, who did not have a name yet, was filled with cuddling, petting the little fur ball as she slept in my lap, showing her where her liter box was and establishing a place to put her food and water bowls. Life went on and I began doing other things when I noticed said kitten was nowhere to be found. I looked under every bed, in every closet, behind every dresser and inside every toilet and she was nowhere to be found. My husband, who would soon be better known as dawdy, was out running errands while I frantically hunted for the kitten. I suspected she must have followed him out the door when he left and no sooner had we gotten a new kitten, we had also lost her.
Then it hit me, I had not yet looked behind the washer and dryer so I grabbed the flashlight and ran into the laundry room. There nestled between the dryer and the wall in very tight quarters and amongst many dust bunnies was the little princess. I called and called her, and she didn’t budge. “Here kitty, kitty, here kitty, kitty.” My song soon turned into a wild banshee yell, “Here kitty, kitty, come here kitty, kitty!!!” But still she did not come.

Tears filled my eyes when I came to the realization that she must have jumped up and fallen behind the dryer and being unable to crawl out, she had died of a broken neck. About that time I heard the kitchen door open and my husband came in from the garage. He saw that I was crying and came and hugged me and said, “What’s wrong?” “I couldn’t find the cat. I looked everywhere. I just found her behind the dryer. I think she’s dead,” I cried through my tears.

“There she was!” He said as that stinky little kitten came out from her napping place with lint hanging from every whisker on her face. It was the most beautiful sight, but only the beginning of our life with Patsy, and the event that proved to be the birth of the new “cat language”.

Patsy has not only brought laughter back into this empty nest, but a lot of blood, sweat and tears as well. But those stories are best saved for another day; I think I hear Patsy calling me to let her outside. She may be able to fly, but open a door is not something she has mastered yet.

There she was!!!