So I finish posting, go to dose Squoosh,and he's jetting around so that I grab a towel bar in the bathroom to try to steady myself as I dance around him; I guess I leaned on it too hard, and it came undone and fell on him!
I feel so horrible.
He seems okay, and he sure did scoot the hell away from it. I have to be more careful. I felt him and petted him all over, and he just purred. I think he's okay. The rod part that fell on him isn't heavy, but he's tiny.
Christ...every day a new stressor. It's like god's inventing new ones, just to get a rise out of me.
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Kitties are amazingly resilient creatures. I'd imagine Squoosh (his name alone implies a supernatural flexibility, ala Plastic Man) was able to contort his little body in such a way to avoid harm from the evil Towel Bar.
They do love to make you feel guilty for the slightest infraction, however. I've stepped on young Simon four times since we've known each other. The doleful howl and wounded look he's given me each time's enough to make me wish *I'd* be stepped on by some giant boot.
Sigh... He's fine. I really *am* paranoid, I guess. Or maybe he really *is* Indestructible. :-) The bop didn't seem to even faze him in the slightest. But then, we're talking about a kitty that dives head-first onto the floor from his two-storey cat condo. At least once or twice an hour.
Silly almost-cat.
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