Garfield

Every once in a while, we try and put Queen Jaffa in a new place she hasn't visited before - like the top of a bookshelf, or a walk in the corridor outside our apartment, etc. You know - just to give her a new perspective and expand her horizons, dutiful parents that we are.

So yesterday was QJ's turn to explore the bar counter. She quite enjoyed being on it, spent some time sniffing at the fruitbasket (distainfully, for there was no meat there), and explored our cache of cellphone chargers (all things wire-like are strings to be played with. But soon enough, it was time for her to get off. And I was appalled to see, QJ couldn't figure out how to get off.

Where have her catlike instincts gone? Isn't she supposed to navigate the leaps and falls of life with grace and panache, relying only on her feline instincts?

"She's a city cat," Delta mused, as QJ miaowed at us pitifully to pick her off the counter and carry her to the floor.
"No way, QJ!" I admonished. "The counter's only four feet high! No cat of mine is going to be too scared to jump that."

QJ peered fearfully over the ledge at the floor below, full of trepidation of the feat she was going to have to accomplish. In a show of tough love, Delta and I pretended to be watching telly, so that she harboured no hopes of getting rescued by us. Ultimately, after much pitiful mewing and some general pathetically helpless looks in our direction, she took the plunge and jumped onto the barstool, a foot or so lower than the counter. There she stood for a few minutes, heart thumping in exhilaration, plotting her next jump to the floor. Finally, mustering all her mustard, she did the final leap as if it would be the last jump of her life.

I think she rather surprised herself, once she discovered herself safely on the ground, to realise how easy it was. And then she was embarrassed of the drama she had just created, so she strutted disdainfull to the rug, and stretched herself out with a bored yawn. QJ is all about appearances.

I, for one, was mortified at the extent of her inabilities. Like the kind of parent who is too embarrassed to watch their nerdy child participate in school sports.

I looked at her asleep on the rug, spreadeagled on her back, belly exposed to the world. Fat (I mean heavy), complacent, self-satisfied. OMG, we've got the real live Garfield.