Little Cat Feet, My A**

Anyone who talks about cats being light on their feet has never heard b on our wooden stairs. She has three modes of navigating them. Only one, the slow creep, comes close, but her pedal silence is negated by her plaintive, demanding yowls.

Usually, she surges up the stairs in a rush, muscular little legs churning beneath her while her head and torso race smoothly towards me. It is simultaneously amusing, endearing, and alarming. I've never seen her do this from below; she walks with me when I go down the stairs. Her running descents I've witnessed only from above, her little form rippling down the stairs, each foot hitting one step in turn, frantic motion and swift gliding serenity both, often with a skid at the bottom.

Her other primary mode is bounding up and down. Here she hits each riser with two feet at once, bobbing and bouncing like a feline cross between a rabbit and one of those plastic rocking horses on springs. The sound that accompanies this action is an entertaining cacophony of hollow thuds: boomp-bomp-boomp-bomp-boomp-bomp... When she does this, I know she's full of energy and wants to play. If I wish to sleep without the refrain of cat wails beyond the door, I know that I must first wave the peacock feather above her head, up and down, like a servant waving a fan above a maharaja's spoiled daugher.

The daughter probably makes less noise, however!

Comments

[Jill Smith]

I know what you mean - Milo's 4.2 lbs sounds like 42 when he's galloping about.

[Amanda]

Hee. My landlady, who lives upstairs from me, has an energetic young cat. How do I know when he's awake? The "thumpeta thumpeta thumpeta" of his feet racing overhead.

[Belle]

I used to live in an apartment with a long hallway that ran the entire length of the place. The cats (3 of 'em) had several races a day; most were silent but once in a while, there would be a herd of elephants that just rattled the windows. Elephant level noise, coming from little cat feet.