Sunday, July 3, 2022

Pinky Ruth #62

Lay-dee's closet fort tried to kill me today.

I had a great morning. I snuck some of the hooligans' unhealthy food. I explored much of the downstairs without being bothered by a hooligan. And, back upstairs, I bravely perched up high on the 2nd floor half wall that overlooks all of downstairs. I then retreated to Lay-dee's closet fort for a quiet nap.
I was sound asleep when the top shelf pulled out of the wall. The shelf and the heavy bins that were on top of it came crashing down above me. I would be writing this from the hospital if the thundering mess hadn't come to rest on the middle shelf that was just above my head.
I was utterly frozen with fear. My eyes could not have been open any wider. My heart could not have been pounding any faster.
I was so scared.
Maddie, Lay-dee, and Big Daddy rushed in to rescue me. They removed the rubble that was precariously perched above me and was still quite unstable. I was finally able to slink a nervous, uncertain escape to underneath Maddie's bed.
Maddie has not left my side since this inexcusable debacle. They seem to be very worried about me.
Lay-dee keeps trying to feed me treats. She tells me that food will make me feel better.
Big Daddy has promised me a much sturdier, reengineered closet shelving system that will not only be indestructible but will be built to within +/- 10 thou of an inch precision. I am just hoping it will not try to crush me.
I used to believe that going to Lay-dee's house was the 3rd worse thing that could happen to me. (After being drugged by the vet and having an apartment fire alarm scare.) I am now moving staying at Lay-dee's house back up to #1. I am lucky to be alive.

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