Testing Gravity
 
I woke up this morning to a certain fourteen-year-old yellow tabby cat testing gravity because breakfast was late.

Meep!  Trill!

He jumped onto my bed and headbonked me.  I rubbed his chin.  Then I rolled over and went back to sleep.

Then he jumped onto my window sill and rattled the blinds.  I didn't budge.

Next, he jumped onto my desk.  I opened one eye.  It's like I saw the wheels in his little pea brain spinning.

Clickety-Clack-Clickety-Clack.  He's walking on the computer keyboard.  Unlike my late torbie nurse cat, Lilith, he does not know how to turn the computer on (or off when I'm in the middle of using it).

Crumple-Crumple-Crumple-Swish!  That was the pile of job ads I was all set to reply to.  They're on the floor now.  I still didn't budge.

RATTLE-RATTLE-RATTLE.  He found the bottle of vitamins I keep on my desk.  This should be good.

Mew!  ("Meowmie, I'm starving!")

RATTLE-RATTLE-RATTLE-PLONK!  Two points.  The bottle of vitamins landed in the wastebasket.

"Alright, I'm up!"

But did he really want breakfast?  Of course not!  He jumped onto my bed again, rolled onto his back, and demanded a belly rub.

And yes, I do still have both hands — and all ten fingers!