Wrongfully Accused

Do you remember when this happened?

I do. Very well, thank you.

Recall, if you will, that I automatically assumed that it was Titus. I made this assumption based on his prior atrocities, such as this and this.

In a great, loud disturbance that I had yesterday morning at 5:30 am, it was revealed to me that I had, indeed, wrongfully accused Titus and that it was actually Hercules that managed to knock everything off my dresser and onto the floor. Yes. Hercules. Allow me to divulge the full epiphany on you:

Despite the fact that our house has central air-conditioning, for the last several months, we have had a window-unit air conditioner in our bedroom window. Why? Because the central air just does not make it upstairs. And I can't take heat, especially when I am trying to sleep. So we popped a window-unit in there. It's great. Well, apparently, the neighborhood birds think so too, but probably for a different reason. They love to come tuck themselves under the thing or on the side, or build a little nest in the corner of the window outside, using the air conditioner as a supporting wall. Plus there is a big tree in our front yard, and its branches do touch the master-bedroom window---the very same window with the air conditioner. These birds make quite a ruckus. And the birds, in conjunction with the tree make for some interesting moving shadows all around the bedroom.

What does this have to do with anything at all ever in the history of time? I'm getting there. Bear with me.

Ever since we picked up Hercules off the street (literally) he has been intrigued by sunbeams, and shadows and how they drift and change around the room. Why, I recall many a day when he sat on the steps in the living room (at our old house), absolutely rapt, for hours watching as the sun would move in the sky and change the shadows that it cast on the stairwell wall. And, indeed, nearly every early am since we've had that air conditioner in our bedroom window, there's been Hercules jumping around from dresser, to chest-of-drawers, to lingerie chest, trying to catch the shadows.

Usually we are aware of what he's doing, and manage to hit him with the water in the "NO, NO, BAD CAT" spray bottle that we keep on the nightstand. He'll scurry away, only knocking off one or two things. Well...yesterday at 5:30ish am there was an ear-drum-shattering CRASH across the room, which came from the chest-of-drawers. Hercules had miscalculated his trajectory and managed to drag down the table runner (WHEN WILL I LEARN: 5 CATS = 0 TABLE RUNNERS) and with it every freakin' thing on the chest of drawers. I knew it was Hercules because:
a) only he jumps around in the morning on the bedroom furniture.
b) only he chases shadows and sunbeams and
c) Titus, the usual suspect, was nestled in the elbow pit on my arm, licking away, as is his custom every morning.

Shut up. I know they are spoiled. And Titus seriously thinks I'm his mother. It's...kind of cute.

I did not take pictures because I just did not have the emotional energy to do it. So later that morning (I was off yesterday; I am recovering from tonsillitis), I started picking everything up. And Titus was right there at my elbow, completely intrigued by the mess and how I was cleaning it up.

BAM.

Epiphany.

Hercules jumps around on the tops of my bedroom furniture. Hercules chases shadows and sunbeams and has been doing so for 3 years. So it was Hercules that actually spawned my "I can't have nice things" post, NOT Titus.

So, my dear Squinty Fuzzimous Sean Connery Football Head McGoo, even though you can't read (I assume), this apology goes out to you.