Killer Balloons

I learned all about kitties and balloons years ago.  Meldee, my roommate at the time, and I had four cats between us: Tuffy, Lamont, Starbuck and Apollo.  One day we brought home a helium balloon to our 2-story condo.  We tied it to the railing of the stairway.

The cats were not happy.  Suddenly, they refused to go up the stairs.  Starbucky in particular, nearly had a heart attack when he first saw the balloon.   We finally realized the balloons were incredibly scary to our entire feline family.

Well, think about it: balloons act very strangely.  They bob and weave and hover for seemingly no reason whatsoever.  They are like very odd round birds.

Now, Starbuck was a Maine Coon.  He was small as far as cats go, but very fluffy and adorable.  However, his macho personality didn't match with his exterior at all.  He tolerated our baby-talk and cuddles, but just barely.  So, when Starbuck, the muy macho, refused to go up the stairs and nearly wet himself every time the balloon moved, we knew the killer balloon had to go.

This is a long way of leading up to my topic for today:  a "Get-Well" balloon that recently came to my house.

I made it through my recent surgery just fine.  I'm currently at home working on getting well.  While I was in the hospital, my friend Peggy brought me the balloon pictured above.  It was really lovely before it died.

However, when I brought it home with me, Jack had a difference of opinion.  He didn't think it was so lovely.  He was immediately suspicious of this weird thing and would run past it and act totally paranoid around it.

In my defense, I was fresh out of surgery, so I didn't immediately remember the helium balloon incident of yesteryear.  It didn't occur to me what the problem was for about a day.  Then, it hit me.

Oh, yes.

Killer Balloon.

Okay.  Not wanting to terrorize my sweet Jack, I tied the balloon up in the bathroom.  After all, I usually keep the bathroom door closed, and when the door is open, I'm in there.  I figured Jack could handle the balloon in supervised visits.

When Jack realized the balloon was in the bathroom, he no longer wanted to be there with me.  Before that, he'd always keep me company.  Now he would sneak in, like he was going in to enemy territory, and would ever so carefully check for the killer balloon.  If he'd see it, he'd turn tail and zoom out into the hall.

The balloon finally lost its umph, as balloons are wont to do, and I think Jack was relieved at its passing.  I quickly disposed of it, so he would no longer be traumatized.

Note to self:  no more balloons!

And that's the saga of the Killer Balloon.

Oh, and thanks to everyone for all your well-wishes, cards, meals and calls as I've been recuperating.  I have the best friends in the world.  You guys are great.


I'm BACK.