I was awoken this morning by a frantic scratching sound that I could not place. It sounded like the cat had somehow fallen into the bathtub and broken her back legs so that she could no longer jump back out again. I ignored it, but the scratching continued and I was forced to drag my sleepy ass out of the toasty warm bed and out into the cold air of too-goddamn-early. (It was just before 8 a.m.)
When I checked the tub, it was bare. Hmm, I thought sleepily, scratching my head. I then used my Sherlock-Holmes-ian powers of perception to deduce that the noise was coming from behind the stereo stand, and lo! there was the cat, madly scratching the wall in her attempt to extricate herself from a decidedly tight spot. I shoved the speaker away from the stand and the cat came scrabbling out. How'd you get back there, goof? I asked her, stroking her fur soothingly. My hand came away wet. What the hell? Her tail was soaked in a liquid that, upon further inspection, seemed to be urine. You fucking PEED? For fuck's sake.
I peered behind the stand (which, incidentally, weighs about a million pounds, give or take a pound or two) and there, sitting in a substantial puddle of what I now knew was indeed urine, was a small paper ball, which at least explained her desire to squeeze her chubby cat butt back there. I knew I could not just leave a puddle of pee behind the stereo stand even though all I really wanted was to climb back under those toasty covers, so I woke Ryan up and we hauled that heavy motherfucker out far enough away from the wall that I could get back there with cleaner and paper towels and remove the offending fluid.
The cat appears to be none the worse for the experience, although the paint job is ruined because of her panicked scratching. (Nobody goes back there except the cat, so I guess it doesn't really matter.)
So here's my question: why do we pee when we are frightened? Do we just lose control of our tenuous hold on maintaining bladder function when faced with the thought of her own imminent demise? Are we ridding ourselves of excess weight in order to better prepare ourselves for fight or flight? Silver lining: at least it wasn't shit.