The time Barry almost killed Charlie

Barry and I were sitting this evening talking about the first time he ever hung out around my cats.  Barry never really was a cat person, well, until he met my two lovelies, Charlie and Fox. I still don't think he's a cat person...he's just a Charlie and Fox person.  I have to say, he actually really likes my two cats and they like him.  But, this wasn't always the case.  Especially the time he tried to kill Charlie.

So, as Charlie curled up between us on the sofa, we reminisced about the first time he came to America to visit me and to meet my fur children for the first time. Let me take you back.  Picture it. Dunbar, West Virginia, about three years ago...

I was in my bedroom getting dressed.  We were getting ready to leave my fourth floor Three's Company style, cookie cutter apartment in the Roxalana Hills complex to meet a couple of my friends for dinner.  We were going to Hooter's.  Not my first choice mind you, but Barry had never been, so my friends and I agreed to go for his sake.  I think he was a bit disappointed, as he should have been...after all, they were West Virginia hooters, not South Beach hooters.  Anyway, I'm getting off track.

Back to getting dressed. As I was teasing my hair (just a little, not Peg Bundy style), Barry walked down the hallway and appeared in the doorway.  "Now, don't panic, but we have a situation here.  Can ye come here?" He says.  Since he was so calm and told me not to panic, the first thing I did was panic and nearly hyperventilate (when someone tells you not to panic the FIRST thing you always do is panic, right?).  I follow him down the hallway while freaking out, my hands covering my mouth and nose (the universal freak out sign).

Mrs. Shoe Salesman Al Bundy

Barry turns to face me.  "Stop it.  Calm down will ye.  Yer not going ti help the situation."  I stare at him and try to calm myself.  I have no idea what this so-called "situation" is, but I know its not good.  It couldn't be judging by the look on his face.

We make it to the living room where I notice the sliding glass door that leads to my balcony is open.  I find this strange as I would never leave that door open.  I have two cats that have never been outside and I live on the fourth floor.  If one of them were to get out on the balcony, they would fall to their death.  My eyes immediately lock in on what the "situation" is (and no, its not that Jersey Shore douchebag, either): My Charlie is on the balcony and he's on the edge of the balcony!  Holy shit!  Not only is he on the edge of the balcony, he's partly hanging off the balcony!  His two front paws extended down past the ledge.  Luckily, his slightly overweight lower body was still on the balcony.

The aforementioned douche bag.

"OH MY GOD!" I scream over and over.  I can't catch my breath as I pace the floor in a fit all while mumbling things (I tend to pace when I'm freaking out).  I can't remember what things they were but I'm sure they made no sense...I'm pretty sure I was speaking in Tongues at one point. I didn't know what to do.  If I ran out there and tried to grab him there was a chance I would scare him and he would fall off the balcony.  Suddenly, I realized what I had to do. It all made perfect sense.

I ran out of my apartment, halfway dressed mind you, and down the stairs until I made it the bottom.  I rushed out the back door of the building and out into the common yard area.  I looked up and spotted my balcony and my poor baby hanging off the side.  I was going to catch him!  If he fell, I'd be there arms stretched ready to snap him up and save him.  What else could I do?  Hey, it made sense at the time.  I hadn't considered how heavy a sixteen pound cat plummeting from four stories up would have been.  He would have probably broken my arms.  I waited for him to fall and tried to line myself up perfectly with where I thought he would fall.  I thought about wind speed and direction.  Thinking if I stood slightly to the left of where he was dangling then he would fall right into my arms.  I had no idea how I came to that conclusion, but that's how it was.

Suddenly, I noticed Barry had appeared on the balcony.  He was on his hands and knees, slowly approaching Charlie...speaking very softly to him.  This is it, he's going to jump, I thought.  Then in one swift movement, Barry reached over and scooped Charlie up in his arms and they both disappeared inside the apartment.  The incident was over.

I ran back upstairs and flew through the front door, I picked Charlie up and of course showered him with kisses.  I tried to find out what happened, but Barry said it happened so fast he couldn't recall really (uh huh).  He said that he was outside smoking (which he quit about a year and a half ago by the way...very good!) and when he opened the door to come back in, Charlie had darted out.  First of all, I find this a little odd, since Charlie hasn't darted anywhere in a very long time.  It didn't matter, though.  At the moment, Charlie was safe and sound, although I did keep an eye on Charlie and Barry for the rest of his visit...I was a little suspect he tried to kill Charlie in a fit of jealous rage :).  Now, since this post is a little long, I won't go into the time he almost killed my other cat, Fox, just days before our wedding in September.  I'll save that story for another time.  Luckily, as you can see, Charlie is back to doing what he does best...just chillaxin'.

This photo was not doctored.  For reals.