Tucker often sleeps the first half of the night in a cat-bed in the sitting room, coming to the bedroom some time in the early morning. He snoozes at the foot of the bed, on the folded comforter, now that the warmer weather has reduced that covering’s use. Things are a bit lazy on weekends, so when I greet the beasts upon waking, there is usually much yawning and stretching. This last Saturday, Tucker happily gave a big stretch, changing his podgy form from a tubby wine cask shape to a slightly less tubby wine cask shape. But he was on the edge of the bed even before his stretch, and that action tumbled him over.
A quick twist to save himself failed as he was already plunging. Fortunately, he struck the steps - the flat surface of the top step - not far down, and that broke his fall. I don’t think he was hurt. With his padding, it must have been like landing on a big package of Twinkies. He recovered swiftly and, after I checked him over for shattered bones, torn ligaments and hurt pride, he started purring; embarrassed, probably.
These are the things with which a roly poly sausage has to put up. Luckily, while a sausage doesn’t fall gracefully, in this case, it landed well.