Monday, March 1, 2010

Lucy's Leap

{Lucy with her acne-swollen chin}

What with school and internship and the unexpected trip for Grandpa's funeral, I haven't had a chance to get Lucy spayed yet. So she's in heat. Again. (Or is it still?) Anyway, I actually kinda like it because she's super snuggly (as I'm typing, she's rubbing her soft little head against my foot, purring), though I am getting a little sick of her bottom going up in the air every time I touch her. Poor thing is slave to her hormones. Just how much she's addled by them wasn't truly apparent until Saturday.

A couple times a week or so, Jay will let Lucy out on the balcony. We live on the second floor, so there's not much chance of her escaping or meeting any "friends." She seems to enjoy it outside, pretending to pounce at birds in the tree outside our apartment or watching the feral cats that live in the storm drain below us (Jay often starts singing "Someday My Prince Will Come" in a feline imitation of Snow White as she stares longingly out the window). Sometimes she'll even go scratch by the balcony door to let us know she wants to go out. I was nervous for the first couple months that she would fall/jump through the bars, especially since she liked to stick her head over the edge and check out what was on the ground, but my fears gradually relaxed as time passed.

Yesterday, Lucy wanted out, so Jay let her outside and, it being a beautiful day, left the door open and cracked the window. We were both on the couch about ten minutes later, talking, when I heard a high feline scream, followed by a loud yowl. Now, due to aforementioned feral cats, an occasional cat scream is a relatively common occurrence, but I immediately jumped up and ran to the balcony. They say that mothers can recognize the individual cry of their child; I'm not sure if that's true for pet owners, but it makes for a good story, right? Anyway, I looked down from the balcony and saw Lucy sitting, legs splayed awkwardly, on the pavement a good 15-plus feet below.

"She jumped! She jumped!" I yelled, almost hysterical, to Jay. Bless him, he ran out the front door and down the stairs, quick as a flash. Lucy just sat there, vacant and stunned. I ventured back inside as he picked her up and assessed the damage--I couldn't stand to watch.

Thankfully, she's fine. No broken bones. She mewled in pain a few times as Jay poked and prodded and palpated, and she acted super shell-shocked the rest of the day and slept significantly more than usual. Later that evening, other than a sizable goose egg on her chin, she was none the worse for wear.

As for her motive, Jay is convinced that her hormones, quite literally, drove her over the edge. It appears she will go to great lengths to follow nature's urgings.

Hopefully she's learned her lesson, but for the time being, we're keeping our little adrenaline junkie off the balcony.

{Lucy performing acrobatics on her scratching post. I have yet to figure out why animals' eyes glow that freaky green color. And just FYI, the "red-eye reduction" photoshop tool does not work on them...}


  1. Oh my goodness!!! I am glad that she's ok!

  2. Wow! Now I may NEVER let Icarus out on our balcony!! Lucy is a crackup! I'm so glad she's okay.

  3. This is one of the best cat stories, ever. Even though I feel bad for poor kitty, Brian and I had a good laugh. Brian wanted me to tell you that cats don't get acne...that they get abscesses and to watch out so it doesn't erupt on you (this may or may not be true). I think he's had an experience with erupting cat abscesses.