When the going gets Tuffy

Mark had a cat growing up named Tuffy.  It was the meanest, most terrifying cat I have ever met.  Tuffy was a long-haired gray and gold tiger stripe.  His fur was matted and clumped up everywhere.  You couldn't go anywhere near that cat to brush it or clip it because you wouldn't live long enough to get to the hospital for the stitches.  You would have died from blood loss.  So everyone let Tuffy just exist and run the house.  Jen Searle will vouch for this story, every word of it is true!  The cat was mostly an indoor cat.  It slept on the couch, therefore anyone who wanted to sit on the couch was forbidden to do so.  If he changed his mind and slept on the chair, that meant you had to move.  Sometimes Tuffy went out to the garage and would prowl around out there and check out the nooks and crannies for mice or to bury things that he killed earlier in the day, who knows.
The funny thing about Tuffy is that he would climb up the door in the kitchen that led to the garage and he would suspend himself 4 feet off the ground looking outside.  It was a signal to open the door.  Tuffy also did this for coming in from the garage.  If you were in the kitchen, sometimes you would jump a mile from a sound of a 15 pound cat throwing himself at the door's window.  He would stick his claws out and hold himself up staring at you through the window with hazel green eyes that saw right through you.  At that point you had a choice: open the door and let the cat in the house, losing your seat and probably getting bit, OR leaving him out in the garage so that when he came in later, he would get revenge.
The reason I am writing this is twofold.  One is because up until I met Mark, we never had any pets.  Thinking about how devastated I am to lose our cat now, makes me remember.  I was afraid of dogs and terrified of cats.  Tuffy didn't help the situation, as a matter of fact, I was convinced that having animals was dangerous and a crazy thing to do! HA ha ha!!!  Whoa, have times ever changed!
The second reason is because one time Mark Searle was out in the garage up in the attic trying to retrieve some things for his dad.  You could hear him shuffling around in the rafters as his dad and I sat in the living room and chatted.  All of a sudden we heard a crashing sound from the garage and we looked over and there was Tuffy hanging on the window.  We ignored him and figured that Mark could be the brave one to let Tuffy in.  Homer and I kept chatting about stuff and again, we heard some rustling and then shouting.  I got up and walked to the kitchen door, looking out into the garage.  Mark's dad followed me.  There was Mark, hanging by one arm from the rafters and sheetrock and plaster covering his head and the floor.  He had fallen through the ceiling and was just hanging by one arm.  He looked as though he needed stitches along his arms and that Tuffy had gouged out half of his flesh from his arms.  The cat was mortified that we would blame him.
Mark's dad opened the garage door and burst out laughing.  Mark was still hanging there and said "could I get some help."    Homer continued to laugh while getting a step ladder and helping Mark to step down from the ceiling.  It cost us hundreds of dollars to help repair their ceiling and Mark never did find what his dad wanted.  After that, he never went up in the ceiling again.
Tuffy lived for about 100 more years and Mark somehow convinced me that getting a cat (or two) was a good idea.  I will tell you about that the next time.
Moral of the story:  when the going gets Tuffy, the Tuf gouge your eyes out... LOL... (not really)... when the going gets tough, we are supposed to call on God and say "can I get some help" and he sends a step ladder... one step at a time.