The victim, on the left, just two days ago.
We heard a loud crash around 5 o'clock this morning, jumped out of bed, and discovered that one of our silver-plated candelabra had tried to commit suicide by leaping off the mantel in the living room.
I was surprised, but I shouldn't have been. After living quietly for some years with these candelabra, which are French by way of India, I had been lulled into thinking they had tranquil natures. But it's clear now that passions have been bubbling just under their silvery surface.
Just the day before, the candelabrum in question had incited one of its candles to jump off the mantel, testing the waters. Some feline had bravely subdued the candle, which had survived the fall. We found it unconscious and covered in fang marks before it could flee or do any damage.
The candelabrum also lived, but sustained serious injuries. One of its arms snapped off, requiring an amputation. It had been a four-armed candelabrum; now it is a two-armed version. Its brother had to undergo the same surgery. Fortunately, they are designed to be convertible so there wasn't much sawing or blood. But it still looks a little tipsy. (If it should jump again and breaks another arm, I can still convert it to a single candlestick.)
I'm so glad that none of the cats was lounging on the carpet where the candelabrum landed. When I told them what happened, they were more outraged at the candelabrum's lack of decorum than sympathetic to its plight. They said they hadn't seen anything because they were both far, far away from the mantel at the time, and but they promised they'd ask around.
Harris and Toffee claim they were not witnesses.
Possum is forming an investigative committee and I look forward to reading its findings.
Possum has his theories and vows to shed some light on the matter.
In the meantime, I need some of that sticky goop that curators use to secure objects in display cases.