My cat hates ceiling fans. Usually, this is not something I have to contend with, but here on vacation, we have to keep her in the only room in the house without one. And it also is the room with no bed. And she gets unhappy if she sleeps alone. In order to pacify her, I go bedless. I try, sometimes, to be a good cat mommy.
I try to bring Celeste out, which Moe, my chocolate Labrador, takes as a good thing overall, but a little uninspiring since all she really does is shakes and hisses. As we sit on the couch in the living room, her body weight shifts from one side to the other, eyeing Moe and all the people and couches. She strategically thinks of how it would be best to take them all out in one go. Swipe here, growl there, cankle attack and under the couch and through the hallway.
As a matter of chance, the non-moving ceiling fan falls into her view. Her eyes widen, her neck rears back into her body, ears flatten and she swivels her eyes toward me, ceiling fan, me, ceiling fan. The shaking intensifies. Moe pokes up his head with his ears forward in anticipation.
You can hear her yell in her mind, ‘Plan B, Plan B!’ Her claws sink into the couch and into my leg in order to propel a decent jumping distance.
And we’re off – Celeste runs, Moe runs, I run. I could guess that I would be dropping the least amount of hair in the havoc, but I’d probably be wrong.