A week or two ago, while surfing kitty sites and missing Ziggy, I suddenly became aware of the sound of footsteps ... on the roof. After a minor freakout (should I run out in my pj's, swinging the baseball bat before or after I dial 911?) I determined that it was just the inspector from the city, checking out the new roof. (Guys? It's called a doorbell. Next time, please use it.)
Today, while downstairs studying for my tree and shrub quizzes with The Electric Mayhem (she's good on the maples, but the catalpa leaf scars still throw her off), I had another minor freakout when I heard footsteps rushing about over my head. The culprit was quickly identified:
This house was built in the mid-70s and the construction is, in general, much more solid than recent stuff. But the acoustics are such that Big Acoustic Kitty makes himself sound like many, many more kitties when he goes tearing up and down the upstairs hallway. Which, of course, pleases him to no end.
(Photo from the KittyChair archives. Isn't he a handsome boy?)