All I wanted was to recline on the couch and unwind, but life rarely gives me what I want. Sometimes it gives me something adjacent to what I want if only just to fuck with me.
“He wants this thing, but let’s see how he handles this other thing! Oh, he handled it poorly. How fun!”
Even when I expect the unexpected, something bordering unexpected usually happens. That’s life.
In this case, I finally settled in bed, where I wanted to be all day. My classic tabby cat, Cosmo Chainsaw, sought me out. We’d missed a few nights of our tandem couch-surfing ritual because I was working late. Mr. Chainsaw doesn’t always come into the bedroom, but he’ll come to find me when we haven’t had a good snuggle that day. He’s an anxious rescue who slept in a street-sweeping machine for the first few months of his life. These days he lives in a luxurious and well-stocked cat haven but is still twitchy. Any movement puts him on edge, so even a yawn can cause him to panic and flee to his hiding spot in the basement.
Cosmo is the most awkward snuggler. When he tries to snuggle, he paces around my lap or torso, kneading here and there while looking generally uncomfortable. He’ll try a few different positions, lay down a couple of times, and never really settle. Sometimes he leaves and comes back 4-5 times. It’s kind of exhausting, but he’s a good soul. When he’s missed me, he lays on my belly and puts his head on the hands I have folded across my chest. I’m his human, and he only does this with me. We’re bonded in weirdness.
On this tired night, I felt the weight of his little head on my hands and we both let out a deep sigh. I closed my eyes and he did too, and we both drifted toward sleep.
You know that thing your brain does sometimes when you’re sinking into sleep and it jerks you awake? Your mind finally relaxes into a calm state. Your body soon follows and you can feel yourself ooze into your bed under a blanket. The worries of the day fade away and will be tomorrow’s problem. The sandman tugs at your eyelids.
Just as you begin your descent into slumber, your brain decides it’d be fun to toss an M-80 into a dumpster.
Tonight this happened to me and Cosmo at the same time, though neither of us know who triggered it.
In that perfect liminal space of peace and relaxation, something spooked him. Using me as a launch pad, and from a dead sleep, he rocketed straight up into the air about 5 feet. His front paws had been on my hand and his back paws on my thigh, but all that remained were the charred burnout marks where his wheels once were.
Before the pain hit, I only knew he was there one second and in orbit the next.
While airborne, there was a clear moment of silence when he was free of gravity. It was long enough for me to think, Wow, where did he go? That’s some impressive hang time. I didn’t move and stared straight ahead while my wife watched the scene unfold. I assumed at some point he would come down.
Eventually, he lost his battle with gravity and came crashing back down to earth on top of my nightstand, taking out the lamp, the clock, a bunch of books, and two water bottles. He tore ass into the living room where he knocked over a box of toys and collided with a kitchen chair. The whole event sounded like someone pushed a tool chest down the stairs.
It was like those videos of a cat getting itself stuck in a plastic bag and trying to run away, dragging the bag along with it, and spooking itself further. Each thing he bumped into perpetuated the freak-out, and he left a path of destruction from our bedroom all the way to his hiding spot in the basement.
I was busy putting pressure on my claw wounds when our daughter came out to see what the fuss was about, but my wife didn’t see her because her eyes were blurry with tears of laughter. I forgive her because she has a condition that makes her laugh when I’m in pain. One time I fell down the stairs in another infamous cat incident, and the first sound I heard before knowing if I was dead or not was her laughing.
I put the house back together and found Cosmo, who is so used to freaking out and recovering he was already asleep on the couch. Taking this as a cue that he was fine, I bandaged up my wounds and headed to bed.
It wasn’t the most peaceful way to end the night, but we all had a great laugh. Sometimes that’s the best way to end a long day.
He doesn’t look anxious but looks can be deceiving.
I have a black cat who gets spooked quite easily and perpetual marks on my legs from his launches.
Awe, nobody should laugh when you’re in pain. They should help. And I have anxious animals. I think they come to me because they know I get it. My dog is very anxious and has serious abandonment issues (same girl, same), but she’s so sweet. She did tear up a bit of the wood in the house when I first got her and had to go anywhere. It’s on the list. (Note to self, make a list.)
She gets super hyper and lately she’s been almost aggressive toward the cats—too playful. One, Maddie, she is finally being okay with—their early antagonism has softened into a game where well, no, Maddie still claws the crap out of her. She just teases the dog and if the dog responds, she gets smacked. It’s not ideal. And then we have Max. He’s a tuxedo cat and I call him Tuxedo Max to my great delight. He and Izzy, the dog—about 60 lbs, bounce out of the house together like Mylo and Otis. She can sometimes be too rough with Max, but they’re besties who love each other and it’s cute. She will wag her tail while she plays with it. We have a house of love. But certainly a bit of chaos. And I understand how cats can be. I have my own cat like ways. But I will say it sounds like your cat has just the right daddy for him. That’s so sweet. I love it. It made me think of something that made me happy.
Thanks for sharing something from your life! 🙏🐈⬛