“We wanted Grammie to be near us always, so we put her on this shelf,” said Nancy Meyer, pointing to the shelf that was clearly not high enough to prevent an aerial bombardment from the family tabby. “No one knew what Mr. Kitters could do.”

“She never got along with the cat,” added Meyer, sweeping up a pile of gray dust. “But this just seems extreme.”

“It was her wish to be cremated and placed in our home, somewhere safe and sound,” added Meyer, who had walked into the living room just in time to watch Mr. Kitters vault off of the wall, strike the urn, and scurry away in a plume of ashes. “Grandpa had his remains scattered, so I guess in a way that happened for her too.”

At press time, an acrobatic cat was no match for karma.