Like Water in a Leaky Bowl

It’s surprising sometimes how disaster can be averted by a narrow margin. It’s surprising how a disaster can be in preparation for such a long time without a clue coming to those who live amongst it. No one was hurt in the making of this story, but it might have turned out differently.

As readers may know, Millie lives most of her life in the cat-room. She does come out into the rest of the house for short forays. She will snooze beside me when I take a nap on the weekends. But one of the reasons why I am so pleased at the prospect of her being adopted is that her life is quite restricted at the moment, due to her dislike of the other beasts. She will be going to her new home in about a month’s time, barring accidents. And one of those accidents almost occurred.

The other cats sometimes visit the cat-room. I don’t care for keeping them out all the time, because it’s part of their home, after all. Yet each time they go in, it undoubtedly bothers Millie. Sable and Indigo visit to eat the food, which apparently tastes better in the cat-room than anywhere else. Brazil visits to look out the windows, as does Moxie.

Moxie is a dense, heavy cat, and when he climbs things, such as cat-trees, especially in a hurry, he can add weight to them that makes them top-heavy. A few days ago, I was sitting in the bedroom when I heard a heavy thud from the cat-room. Before I entered, the Mixer ran out. Inside, I saw one of the cat-trees - the saddle-topped cat-tree, Cammie’s old favourite - on the floor. Moxie had jumped on to it, perhaps leaping from the couch, off to the side, and had caused it to fall. That was less important than how or where it fell.

It landed on the suitcase-house cat-bed, where Mills often lies, and where she almost always lies when other cats are in the room. The suitcase-house cat-bed was not flattened, but one of the posts that supports the saddle-topped cat-tree’s saddle top, was lying on it, squishing it. Millie was still in the cat-bed. As I lifted the cat-tree off the bed, she hurried out, her tail floofed.

After holding her and running my hands over her body, I could tell that she was not hurt, at least not badly. She would have been lying flat in the bed, and the way the tree had fallen would have crushed the top of the cat-bed onto her back, but as flat as she had been, she would probably have felt little but a cushioned pressure. However, as may be seen in the photograph below - a reconstruction of what was seen at the time - if the saddle-top, which in fact prevented the post from continuing to the floor, had been the part of the tree that had landed on the suitcase-house-cat-bed, things might have been very different.

Needless to write, the furniture in the cat-room has been changed a little, and another item now prevents the saddle-topped cat-tree from falling completely to the floor. Millie is unhurt and active; she was bouncing about the cat-room last night in full vigour. I am grateful that disaster was averted. Sometimes it seems as though such dangers are like water in a leaky bowl: if there is a crack, the water will find it, and one doesn’t always see the crack before it starts leaking.