Fried Kitty

Little Miss Bella had an unfortunate mishap this weekend. She, however, didn't even know that this near-fatal incident even occurred. What she did know: her mom is a maniac... a total spaz. I'll give you the recap in iPhone pics... Here's what went down:

I had class Saturday morning (don't ask - I'd rather forget it ever happened than explain!), ran a few errands, and came home to indulge my OCD tendencies and do my weekly cleaning. I was also bitten by the decorating bug recently, so amid my other errands I picked up a new centerpiece for our coffee table. I'm trying to rid our living room of all red accents, and playing up the greens. {Another post, another day.}

What do you think?

Unfortunately, the little accent balls look more like kitty toys than I realized at Home Goods. This little creature just couldn't resist batting them around the house one at a time... 2 days later I think she is finally losing interest. But I digress. This was not "the incident," just a funny little Bella-ism.

After the excitement of the new centerpiece wore off, I got to cleaning. Toilet scrubbing, sheet washing, vacuuming - you know the drill. To rid my clean house of the lovely aroma of pizza from the night prior, I lit a couple of my favorite candles while I went about my cleaning frenzy. Instert: disaster.

From the title of this post, you likely know where this story is going... but at the time, I couldn't have predicted what was about to happen. Somewhere between putting away laundry and dusting, I started to smell the most disgusting burning odor. I started running around like a total lunatic sniffing each room of the apartment trying to figure out what was on fire. I ruled out the office and our bedroom, so after I put out both candles I had lit I started flipping over pillows and ducking my head under tables and behind furniture to see if an outlet somehow sparked and caught on fire. My mind was racing: should I run and tell my neighbors that the building is burning?! Why the heck isn't my smoke detector going off?? Should I stuff Bella in her stupid pink carrier in case I need to make a mad dash with her to safety?!?!

I took a deep, smoky breath and pulled myself together. I texted Andrew - who was away at an all-day Chiropractic seminar - that the house might be on fire. (Just what any husband wants to read when they're sitting in an 8-hour lecture 45 min away.)

That's when I saw it: Bella.
Sitting on the counter.
With her little butt up in the air and her face in the sink waiting for water droplets.
And smoke coming off her big ol' puffy tail.

That is when I went into full.on.maniac.mode!!! I ran at her. I was shrieking "omg omg omg!" I scooped her up and ran my hand down her tail... what rubbed off onto my hand was the same black, chalky residue that you make a mess of when lighting a candle that is down to the bottom of its wick.

Her puffy racoon tail had accidentally swept across the candle flame and caught on fire. And in the same instant, it must have just gone out! Because for all the stink and all the smoke, only a teeny tiny patch of her fur was singed! I was amazed. And relieved. And she was just staring at me like "I knew this lady was a nutbag, but she has really lost her mind now..."

The smell was unbearable. Have you ever smelled burning hair? This was worse. Burning cat hair = grossest smell ever. Even so, I was terrified to light another candle. I'll probably be scarred for life.

Ya right, I love candles... I'll get over it. But I'll put them high up and out of reach from now on! Poor husb got about 15 texts in a span of 3 minutes.

After my heart stopped racing and I caught my breath from the psychotic sprints I did around our apartment, I went back to cleaning.

And Bella went back to napping in her favorite crevice.

Bella napping. Me cleaning. And my poor husband simultaneously learning about how to cure chronic illness and un-velcroing his spastic crazy cat lady wife from the ceiling.

Ahh... all is right in the world :)