Saturday, December 31, 2005
When Timmy was in trouble, Lassie knew to bark for help.
But he had nothing on Gary Rosheisen’s cat, Tommy. When Rosheisen fell out of his wheelchair Thursday night, Tommy knew to dial 911.
Or maybe it was just dumb luck.
Rosheisen fell while trying to get from his wheelchair into bed about 7 p.m. He couldn’t get up because of the pain — he has osteoporosis and ministrokes that disrupt his balance — so he yelled for help.
The only reply was his neighbor’s loud snoring.
Rosheisen, 50, couldn’t reach a cord above his pillow that alerts paramedics that he needs help. And the phone was on the other side of the room of his North Side apartment.
So he laid on the floor, shivering and wondering if he would get help before the nurse came at 9:30 a.m.
Then he heard a knock on the door. He hollered twice to come in.
In walked Columbus Police Officer Patrick Daugherty, who had followed Rosheisen’s voice to his bedroom.
"How did you know to come here?" Rosheisen asked.
Daugherty told him a 911 call had come in from Rosheisen’s Beechcroft Road apartment, but there was no one on the phone. Police tried to call back to make sure everything was OK, and when no one answered, they decided to check things out.
"Well, it must have been Tommy," Rosheisen said.
Daugherty didn’t believe it.
Then he walked into the living room, and there was the rust-orange-and-tan striped cat, laying by the telephone on the floor.
"I know it sounds kind of weird," Daugherty said, but he isn’t sure how else to explain it.
Rosheisen got Tommy three years ago to help lower his blood pressure, and tried to train him to call 911.
He wasn’t sure how well it worked, though, and treats were involved.
And after he got a medical-alert necklace, he didn’t see the point.
But he wasn’t wearing the necklace on Thursday because he had gone to the hospital to scan his blood vessels, and metal is not allowed in the machine. His forearm was badly bruised and sore from an IV, further weakening him.
The phone in the living room always is on the floor, and there are 12 small buttons — including a speed dial for 911 right above the button for the speaker phone.
"He must have just happened to hit the right buttons," Rosheisen said.
Tommy, shy despite his deed, hid around the corner while Rosheisen told the story. But he eventually came out.
"There’s the man of the hour," Rosheisen said. "He’s my hero."
There's only two possible explainations for this. 1) This man is the anti-christ. The fact that the cats used their demonic abilities to save his life suggests that he might have a crucial part to play in their plans for world domination. Maybe he's destined to become president of France or maybe he'll invent something that will bring out about the destruction of the world, opening the door to the dominion of felines and their Lord Satan.
The second possibility is that the abyssal feline forces have noticed that there are some of us who have begun to see through their disguises and to the depths of their infernal hearts. We know their demonic goals and the dark powers they serve. To try to counteract this wave of truth, they're trying to manufacture positive news stories to try to gull a public set to turn against them. They might figure that a few more instances of auspicious cat stories might help to lull the public at large back to sleep and away from realization about the truth danger they face.
To cover both possibilities, this man must be destroyed as a precaution and we must redouble our efforts to bring the truth to our brothers and sisters trapped in feline bondage. Cats are like brain slugs, insideous in their powers of manipulation and control. In order to eliminate the threat they pose, some of their collaborators will obviously have to be tossed into the cleansing fires.