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Harold has been really stressed out lately over current economic conditions. It all came to a head on Sunday morning when he decided to take one of his own lives. He likes to sleep on the bar at the top of the stairs, overlooking the front door and entry hall. A time or two, Lisa and I have caught him trying to tightrope the railing, but he only got three feet off of the bar before he lost confidence and backed up. Either his confidence or his depression grew yesterday morning.

I was scrambling some eggs in the kitchen when I saw a blur falling from the ceiling out of the corner of my eye. It was followed with a loud thump. The bodyguard’s sister had spent the night and she exclaimed, “Oh my God, does the cat always jump off of the second floor?” I love the little guy, but I wasn’t shocked or concerned. First, cats can survive drops from high places. Second, Harold is borderline retarded and there is little we can do to prevent him from doing stuff like this.

When I rushed in to check on him, he was predictably licking himself as if nothing had happened. We monitored him throughout the day and he didn’t seem even mildly concussed. Stupid yes, but not concussed.

I’m just hoping that he learned his lesson from this. However, I’m afraid he will just see this as confirmation that he can survive anything, and start to seek his next stunt. Oh jeebus….my cat is David Blaine.

Tags: David Blaine, retardation