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To: FaultLine who wrote (1822)	11/1/2002 10:05:56 PM
From: Ilaine	Read Replies (1) \| Respond to of 6901

She is behind some boxes now, attempting to catch her tail. This means looking behind her, spotting it, and attempting to pounce on it, which causes her to fall over and roll. She never seems to tire of this game. Cats are so much fun. My favorite cat story involved Max. When we lived in New Orleans, we lived behind a beauty parlor, two apartments upstairs (we rented both), one downstairs (our friend Jim rented it.) One night Jim had been drinking, and it was warm, so he had the window open. Sometime, during the middle of the night, he felt an enormous, flabby weight on his chest, and sat straight up, gasping and freaked out. Turns out Max had jumped onto his windowsill (quite a feat as houses in New Orleans are raised up on pilings) and onto his chest. He thought he was dying from a heart attack. Good thing he liked Max. My favorite stupid pet story involved rabbits. When I went to LSU Baton Rouge, I lived in a shotgun eightplex. Shotgun houses are one room right after the other -- if you shot a gun through it you would hit every room. Immediately behind me lived a med student named (if memory serves me) Mike. Our bathrooms were contiguous, and our showers shared a common drain, with a little hole cut in the wall between our showers. I did have a rabbit (rabbits aren't good pets) and let it roam around the apartment from time to time. One Sunday morning Mike banged on my door, and when I opened it, he demanded to know if I had a rabbit. I said yes. He said, "oh, thank God." He had been out drinking the night before, and woke up at dawn, and thought he was hallucinating when he saw a rabbit munching on the laces of his tennis shoes. He went back to sleep, and when he awoke again, there were rabbit droppings in his apartment. Drinking seems to be a common element of pet stories in Louisiana.