Curse of the Black Cat

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Licorice the Black Cat Bastard!

I’m going on my fourth day of limited mobility.  My foot and ankle have really been killing me ever since I took an unplanned tumble down the stairs.  And it’s all Licorice’s fault.

Who is Licorice, you ask?  I live in a four cat household.  One is Loki, my fluffy little puffball cat.  She’s pretty affectionate if she knows you, although she hates strangers and has a habit of being underfoot at the wrong time.  Then there’s Simba, who basically lives outside and kills mice for sustenance.  There’s also Toasty, a grumpy little grouch who got his name cuz he resembles a toasted marshmallow.  Then there’s Licorice, a big, black, tubby ball of belligerence.

So, anyway, Tuesday night I came home late after hanging at a friend’s place to watch Sons of Anarchy.  I came in the door and flipped the light in the stairway on.  What I did not do is check the stairs to make sure they were clear.  I also didn’t watch where I was going.  It was fine til I put my foot down and heard a high-pitched cat squeal.

I say I tripped over, it didn’t really go down like that.  I just say “tripped” cuz it sums it up easily.  What really happened is that I put my foot down, the cat screamed, and my foot kinda slid down the cat’s side and missed the edge of the next step.  I lost my balance and began to plummet.

I don’t know about you, but when I fall down or lose control of what my body’s doing or where it’s going, initially I feel a huge rush of excitement.  It’s like, I’m falling- No, I’m flying!!  This is badass!  A fraction of a second later, when my brain has figured out what’s happening… sheer, stomach-turning terror.  I’m gonna die-type terror.

I didn’t go head over heels as much as I fell backwards and slid.  My right leg bent funny and my feet and toes somehow ended up underneath me.  They stretched funny or something because I felt pain radiating out from my ankle up to my knee and out through my toes.  I was a little dazed, so I decided the best thing to do was sit for a spell and get my wits back.

I lay back at looked up at the ceiling.  Things were kind of spinny and surreal.  I heard a tiny little meow, like a little girly cat might make and saw Licorice, the big fat cat peering down from the top of the stairs at me.  His big green eyes blazed with “I got you sucker” glee.  He meowed at me, and for a moment I had to consider the thought that maybe the black bastard planned this.  How long was he waiting for me?  I had to admire him for having the discipline to sit and wait until I came home.  He was like a frakking ninja or something.

Anyway, yeah.  There’s proof positive that cats are sonsuvbithes.  Believe that.

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