This morning was back to usual, if ‘usual’ means I’m based in Berlin’s Neukölln neighborhood, have a much bigger flat than the actual usual, tons of cool (and cheap) cafés around and a bike to go anywhere within minutes (Paris is significantly more hilly — and car-filled). But what I mean by that is that my brother is back in Paris and my fiancée is working, so I was left to my own devices by 8:45. Alone with the cat, that is.
Said cat who was, as always, running around as my fiancée was getting ready to leave and I was (slowly) getting out of bed. Well, technically, getting down from bed, since it’s located on top of a mezzanine in the living room. As she left and I found my way towards the kitchen, the cat followed suit, because I was the only attraction left (he would have otherwise followed her any day of the week: he’s got good taste).
Today being a very warm day (not as warm as in Paris, apparently, where your Apple watch may melt if you stay out too long), I figured I should pop by our balcony, which can be accessed through the kitchen. Then, I remembered that the cat started going on said balcony after being scared shitless by the noise for days (we — obviously — don’t have a balcony in Paris, so this is all new to him). I put 2 and 2 together: how about grabbing the cat in my hands and going on the balcony for a breath of morning fresh air?
That was a sound plan. Except for one minor detail: I first had to open the balcony door. Both doors, actually: this is an old flat, where all doors and windows on the outside com in pairs to fight the cold off (obviously a pre-global warming construction). And these old, wooden doors make noises when they open. Which any cat, even if they are used to it, would ten to dislike.
Somewhere between door one and two, I felt the cat starting to panic in my left arm while I was opening the second door with the right. And by panicking, I mean he was trying to jump off any way he could. But I held on: after all, I’m far bigger and stronger than a 5 kilogram cat, right?
Turns out panic does a lot to improve any creature’s ability to get out of a jam. By the time I stepped on the balcony, I was cat free but scratch full: not only had the little guy found a way out by climbing on my shoulder, but he’d left behind a scratch that was a significant as the effort I’d put in to hold him in position.
I then proceeded to get back inside and poor myself some coffee. So as not to forget little details like doors. And noises. And the fact that a cat will always find his way to freedom.