Molly, Minion of Satan

I love animals, cats in particular.  And they love me, never met a cat that didn't like me.

Until Molly.

Molly is being fostered by my friend Autumn, who is one of the loveliest people I have ever known.  Kind, strong, funny, thoughtful (she writes Thank-you notes, people), Autumn is beautiful inside and out.  Me and my two cats are staying with Autumn during my transition here in Seattle.  We have the extra bedroom, which has a small balcony off the second floor.

Molly was terribly neglected and weighed about four pounds when Autumn took her in.  Half Siamese, half calico, half feral, half insane.  Actually I shouldn't say that - I'm not sure about the calico part.

 Molly:  The Culprit

She has nailed me with both fangs and claws no less than 12 times.  She starts out all loving, batting at you a little, then BAM.  Once she was lying in wait next to the staircase, scheming, planning, for me to come down the stairs.  When I turned the corner she attacked my knee and tried to move up my leg.  I think she was going for the femoral artery.  I now look like I was bitten by a very short vampire.

Autumn was out of town last week so it was just me at the krazy kat house.  My cats do not interact with Molly, they stay in the bedroom and the litter box is out on the balcony. 

One day I decide to shift my cats into Autumn's room, just so they could have new things to sniff.  Once closed into that bedroom, I then went downstairs to wash out their bowls.

I heard some mao-raowing from outside.  I went out, and the maoing seemed to be coming from above.

Apparently Molly decided to explore the open bedroom where my cats had been.  Then the balcony.  Then the balcony railing.  Then up to the window eave.  Then the ROOF OF THE APARTMENT BUILDING.

HOLY SHIT.

My heart seized up, my adrenals went into overdrive, and my life flashed before me (including the part where Autumn beats me to death with a blunt object).  

I'm pretty sure I peed myself a little.

The escape route.  That's one of my cats, Mister Smith. 

Smith is almost too fat to get on the futon, forget the roof.

Molly moved over to the neighbor's part of the roof and thank goodness she was home.

She let me in and I raced up to her balcony.  There is Molly on the eave.

Neighbor (who is also named Molly, oddly enough) calls from outside downstairs:

Just grab her by the scruff!

Oh sure, you down on terra firma where there are no claws and fangs.

I couldn't reach her so I stood on one of those low plastic beach chairs - which are great for lounging but not so great to stand on and lean over a balcony to grab an unpredictable cat.

I had a towel on my shoulder and in the sweetest voice I have, I said, "Hey Molly!  Hey pretty kitty!  Let's go home, you evil possessed cat!  And guess who is giving Elle a heart attack?  Who?  Who?"

I picked her up by the scruff and supported her chest, trying not to think of my exposed jugular.  I got her back home, she completely indifferent to the whole adventure, me hyperventilating.

She had a small snack.  I changed my underwear.