When cats are all hanging around in the afterlife, swapping stories of how they used up their nine lives, my cat Patsy will be able to tell of the most horrifying and terrible experience a cat could ever survive: a brush with the vacuum cleaner. Falling out of a 3rd story window, being nipped by a fox or having your tail run over by a truck tire, sure, traumatizing. But nothing, NOTHING, compares to the close encounter of the 3rd kind that my little fat kitty had to endure today.
Like swimming lessons, a trip to the dentist or the first day in a new school, the vacuum cleaner is something to dread. When it becomes apparent that the human is going to plug the monster in, just hide. In fact, knowing the day of the week on which vacuuming might occur is important in order to plan ahead, find a nice closet to hide out in for the day and avoid the whole thing. That must have been what was on Patsy's mind when she decided to make the corner of my downstairs closet her safe room this afternoon.
Unfortunately, me and the vacuum had plans for the closet which conflicted with the sanctity of her serenity space. When gentle nudging couldn't dislodge her, I decided to go ahead with my vacuuming, despite the sit-in. She sat wide eyed in terror but refused to move. The vacuum hose got closer and closer. And finally, OH MY GOD, it touched her flank. As if to torture the poor creature, it skimmed her from stem to stern, vacuuming up a few precious hairs, stealing her vital essence and causing an excruciating amount of anxiety.
Finally, the fat cat uncoupled itself from its crevice and bolted. Like a bowling ball made of a fifteen pound frozen turkey, she made a beeline down the hallway, headed straight for the bedroom, never to be heard from again. Or at least until several hours later, when the coast was clear.
She emerged unscathed and unruffled, a true hero. She had lived through the worst thing a cat could ever imagine and came out the other side a survivor. Songs will be sung, stories told and many, many generations will remember the day that Patsy faced the horrific vacuum cleaner and bore its hideous touch for a couple of seconds. I'm pretty sure most of her other lives will have been used up in moments of dread, staring at the cat bowl's bare spot of slightly diminishing rations, contemplating the certainty of imminent starvation.
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