There are moments with our pets that are so perfectly chaotic, so unexpectedly funny, that you know you’ll be telling the story for years to come. I had one of those moments this weekend, and it involved my cat, a narrow dock railing, and a very undignified splash.
The Confident Catwalk
Meet Milo. He’s a ginger tabby with an ego the size of a lion’s. In his mind, he is not a cat; he is a small, furry king who surveys his domain with an air of sophisticated boredom. His domain on this particular sunny afternoon was the lake house, and his throne was, apparently, the thin wooden railing of the dock.
He started his patrol with the usual feline grace. Paws placed with deliberate precision, tail held high like a furry exclamation point, eyes scanning the horizon for rogue squirrels or interesting leaves. He was the master of balance, a tightrope walker in a fur coat. I watched him, phone in hand, ready to capture his majestic promenade for social media. “Look at this elegant boy,” I thought.
Famous last words.
The Great Splash-Down
Perhaps it was a sudden gust of wind. Perhaps it was a particularly distracting dragonfly. Or perhaps, just for a split second, Milo forgot that the fundamental laws of physics applied to him.
There was a wobble.
A tiny, almost imperceptible correction. Then a bigger wobble. His back legs seemed to lose communication with his front legs. The elegant, straight tail started windmilling frantically. For a brief, hilarious moment, he looked less like a king and more like a cartoon character slipping on a banana peel.
And then… SPLASH!
A small, ginger-colored cannonball hit the water. The serene surface of the lake erupted, and a moment later, a very surprised and very wet cat head popped up. The look on his face was a mixture of pure shock and utter betrayal, as if the water had personally offended him and all his ancestors.
The Rescue Mission
My laughter quickly turned into “Oh-my-gosh-my-cat-is-in-the-lake!” mode. I scrambled to the edge of the dock, lying flat on my stomach to reach down. Milo, to his credit, wasn’t panicking. He was paddling with a determined, if slightly clumsy, doggy-paddle, his eyes locked on me with a clear message: “Human. Fix this. Now.”