the defenestration of monkey

This vignette is a somewhat of a tragedy...

When I moved into our three-bedroom flat 2 1/2 months ago, I met my three other roommates - Fatema, Suzanne, and Monkey the cat - or Cat the monkey, as you wish.

Monkey and I had a rough relationship. I've never been a huge cat person, and I think this spazastic little creature picked up on this cold attitude of mine rather early. And she was cold to me in return. I like to get up at 5am and have peaceful mornings. Monkey tries her best to sabotage this silent solitude. Monkey meows and I ignore her. Monkey knocks a glass off my bedstand, shattering it to the floor, and I angrily shuffle her out of my room to clean up the mess. The stench of Monkey's litter box taints the taste of my coffee when I wander out to the veranda for sunrise. So goes our relationship.

Monkey was spayed a couple months ago, but has still had a couple bouts of going "into heat" - wherein her abnoxious-factor skyrockets. The cries become higher pitched, and her over-affectionate purrs turn in an instant into violent biting and scratching. She went into heat a few days ago, on the same weekend that she had started (at least in my view) to target me deliberately as her nemesis. Friday, she deposited her excrement under my bed on my LL Bean hiking back pack. Saturday, I caught her in mid-urination on my bed, and grabbed the skin of her neck (this is the only way she allows us to transport her) to run her out to the veranda, her wet trail continued in drops across the living room. Well, it was official, we weren't really friends, although I admit, having Monkey around always made for interesting conversation pieces with roommates and guests.

Fatema and I returned from the market on Saturday and after some time in the flat, we realized we'd seen neither hide nor hair of Monkey, and the search began.... She's definitely not in the apartment. Neighbors haven't seen her (plus the door was locked and there's just no way she'd get out of the apartment without the door-opener noticing. The guards had no news either...

We live on the 9th floor, and all our windows/verandas are open - all the time. Monkey was in heat, and desperate for a man-cat. My firm belief is the poor little Monkey defenestrated herself. "Defenestration" means "to throw out of a window."

I learned this word on an episode of "Radio Lab" - a public radio program of interesting stories/talks around a theme. The Radio Lab theme several weeks ago was on "Falling," and interestingly enough, one of the sketches was about cats falling out of high-rise apartments. Some NY veterinarians did some research on the statistics of the high number of cats they inspect who have fallen from windows. Their research had some fascinating results: cats that fell from the 2nd story and below were mostly fine; cats that fell from between the 3rd and 8th stories had the lowest survival rate; however, cats that fell from the 9th floor or higher, had just has good a chance of making it as the ones that fell from the 2nd floor! Physics can explain this baffling statistic: the cats would reach terminal velocity by around the 8th floor. Once there, they no longer experience the sensation of acceleration and they are able instinctively to pull their legs underneath them, stretch out their legs like a flying squirrel, and slightly slow themselves down before landing in a little belly flop, and most often, walking away unharmed. One cat in New York fell from the 42nd floor and walked away with minor bruising and a chipped tooth!

Alyssa and I have been calling Monkey's name on our runs in the morning. We've seen other cats, happily playing in groves of trees and flowers by the peaceful residential streets where we live. Because we didn't see any sign of Monkey on the ground nine floors below, it is my belief that she is doing just fine wherever she is. Cat the monkey is a wild animal. She's a survivor.

I have to admit, I miss her. Yesterday morning a big live cockroach greeted me in the kitchen. Cat was the best exterminator we could have asked for - chemical-free and all - and prior to her flight, the only bugs greeting me in the kitchen were upside-down and unmoving. Still, I saw the looks on the faces of those free cats in the Khulshi wild, and they seemed to be living the life. I like to think that Monkey has already been adopted into their warm community. Sure, it would be nice to have her back for a visit, but if she chose to taste freedom by leaping out of the window, knowing she'd probably survive, I'm inclined to respect that decision.

Godspeed, Monkey, wherever you are.