.......Oh god. Cats.

I don't know what to do right now.

....I'm sitting a few feet away from a manic cat.

This cat...this insane creature who likely believes she is hunting in the Serengeti but is actually in a living room - just leaped off the table, ran down the hall, clawed her way up a bookcase, and then, as if nothing had happened , sat and licked herself. Then she leaped again, this time off the bookcase, climbed up the blinds and sat, and licked herself. You'd think that'd be enough, right? That all that leaping had satisfied whatever weird urge cats get to suddenly fly through the air, but no, no, because then this cat leaped off the blinds and landed on the table, which, it turns out, is also a place where one can sit and lick oneself. Maybe the table was too shiny, or maybe she felt 'on show' like a banquet food, or maybe she saw God in a recess peanut butter cup, but, whatever it was, she then felt compelled to jump (legs flailing, eyes wild) on to the ledge above the fireplace where she is currently- you guessed it- sitting and licking herself (Hair is obvs delicious. Have you tried?)

Any small movement could potentially set her off, so I'm trying to type as discreetly as possible.

The vet told my friend that her cat was the worst-trained cat she's ever seen. I think that's a little judgy. See, cats were not meant to live with humans. Cats are in a completely different world where blinds are trees, tails are rats and humans are annoyances who randomly serve tunafish. We kid ourselves by thinking that these hedonistic, poorly-domesticated miniature lions are actually enjoying their time in our boring houses. I think this cat would rather be a manic depressive character in a soap opera. Or the world's most intimate hair-stylist, har har.

Oh. My God.

I think she just heard that.

I have to go now.