If you own pets (or children, for that matter), you know that any noise in another room is inevitably bad.
I just heard one a few minutes ago. A sort of dull, crashing sound. I got up to investigate and saw the grey stripey flash of Pooty as he sped from the kitchen. Bea was also scuttling in her 'no rear wheel drive' way. Apparently she was acting as look out.
So, what had crashed? Just a fake plant in a pot that sits on the open space above the kitchen cabinets. It's there to catch dust so it doesn't just drift down when the a/c is on. It was now on the floor.
How did this happen? How did a cat achieve the top of those cabinets, which are easily 9-10 feet high (I need the big step ladder to reach that space). Especially, how did a cat who knows fear of the squirt bottle (I don't even need the actual bottle anymore. I just hold my hand in the 'invisible gun' position and make a squirty noise. Cats scatter and cower and call the ASPCA) get up on the counter and then on top of the cupboards? This is no-cat-land if ever there was any.
Our house is full of such spaces. The designers, evil bastards that they were, put in enormously high ceilings (they aren't called Cathedral Ceilings on a whim, only no Rose Windows) and where they didn't feel like building the walls all the way up there, they left 'display area'. This is a nice term, like 'palmetto bug'. It means "big flat area you can't reach without scaffolding where dust and dead bugs will collect for YEARS". To the cats, they are Everest. They are the Source of the Nile. They must be reached because they are THERE.
And whatever else is THERE, like expensive glass vases or cheap silk plants, must make way.
I don't know how he got there, or why, after 11 years, this was the night he decided to make his assent. Those cupboards have been fairly safe for a long while (one reason is I have fat cats. Fat cats do not climb onto high shelves. There is a plan here, folks.) But the Pooty has been skinnifying due to his thyroid problem, and even though he's gained weight on his meds, he's still svelte and lithe and able to levitate his kitty ass into places where no kitty ass should be.
Of course, the fat cat plan only works just so well. Ophelia, easily the fattest cat in the house, still gets up on the bathroom counter to demand drippy water from the sink. If I do not get up at 5:37 am to gratify her wishes, she wanders the counter and knocks things off. Now, she's fat, so sometimes the thing she knocks off the counter is herself, and the sound of 16 lbs of cat hitting a tile floor in a cloud of combs and lotion bottles will ruin one's morning sleep anyway.
Still, it keeps her off the cupboard. I guess the next step is razor wire.