First let me say I have had many cats throughout most of my adult life. Black ones. Brown ones. Gray ones. White ones. Long haired, short haired. Small and large. I saw them jump. Play. Chase. Hunt. Climb trees. All the things that cats do. But I never, ever, ever saw one of them on my roof.
I had come home from church and was met by my mom who had a story to tell. She had heard a loud kerplunk on the roof and when she went to investigate guess what she saw. A bird? I said. A raccoon? I wondered. Guess again. Guess again.
I give, I give, I said. But I already knew.
It was a cat! That crazy boy, Benji to be more specific.
At first she thought she might try to help him down (she could almost reach him from the back porch she said) but had decided against it. (Thank you mom. I would have been more distressed to find you both stuck.)
She finally figured, well, he got up there somehow, he would have to find his own way down. And he did. And when he came in the house after his big adventure, she had a good talk with him and he promised never to do that again. Uh-huh. That’s what he said.
Except he did. In the next hour. I helped him down twice. That’s it, I said. No more!
I shall have to talk to your father when he gets home I said. Until then you are on restriction.
Now please do not think me a poor cat parent. This one has a wild streak and we are doing the best we can with him.
But honestly. Isn’t he cute when he’s asleep?