Brazen Little Hussy

With the return of Spring come the birds.  Birds everywhere you look.  It's enough to make Lily's little head spin.  She spends hours in front of the windows tracking them, looking wistfully at a world she'll never know.  Sometimes I feel bad for her being cooped up in an apartment. 

We've let her out on the balcony before, and other than running over to the neighbor's balcony, which is separated from ours by a little fence she can slip around, she's been pretty good.  So I decided to let her out for a bit the other day.  We always stay out there with her the whole time, and this time was no different. 

So I got to watch as she ran to the neighbor's side and jumped onto the rail.  The rail that is no more then 4 inches wide and is at least 25 feet off the ground.  On one side is safety.  On the other is death. 

"LIL-LEE!  NO!" I hissed at her.  She didn't care.  "I have a heart condition for chrissakes, Lil, don't fuck around!"  She didn't care.  "Just kidding, Lil!  Mommy loves you.  COME HERE!"  She didn't care.

She walked back and forth the length of the railing a few times.  I didn't want to lunge at her and grab her because I was afraid she'd lose her footing and fall.  At one point she turned, faced out, and put her paws down the side of the railing as if she was about to jump.  I think I screamed. 

I ran inside and got her bag of treats and shook it.  Usually she comes running for them, but she just looked over at me like I was a complete idiot.  "I've got something better going here, toots.  Nice try." 

Finally, after what felt like forever, 42 heart attacks, and my going over the conversation I would have with Joe wherein I explained that our cat had leapt to her death after just 5 days alone with me, she came back and jumped down onto our side of the balcony. 

I scooped her up, tossed her back in the house, slammed the door shut, and informed her she was never going outside again because you cannot be trusted.  And then she spent the rest of the afternoon just like this in front of the window, pouting, refusing to make eye contact, and probably plotting my death. 

Sorry, Lily.  It's for your own good.  Tough love.