I've been hounded for months to tell this story to a broader audience.

Honestly, I didn't think there would be much interest. But hanging out recently at the Kailua compound of Mae Bush (if you grad '87 or '90 from Kailua High with Laurie and Val Bush, you know the place), I was called upon to tell the story.

For the hundredth time.

So here it is, for my widest possible audience:

My tabby cat, Jack, fell 35 stories from my downtown apartment ... and survived.

This was two years ago. I kept the screens to the lanai open then. I was up early, scanning the paper in my kitchen while Jack took position on the opposite side of the apartment to caterwaul. This was our morning ritual, what he did to get attention.

But before I could hunt him down to scratch his ears in reward, the meowing stopped.

I casually looked for him around the apartment, under the bed, in the closets. I went to work, trying not to think the worst.

When I returned, Jack was still gone. With a sick feeling, I went to the apartment grounds below my lanai to look for an impact zone, or a dead cat. But there was neither. I checked nearby areas — nothing. I spoke with building staff, put up a flier with his picture in the lobby.

Nothing.

I went to the humane society, saw many sad little creatures needing homes.

But no Jack.

After a few days, I tried to forgive myself for letting a defenseless animal plunge to his death. This did not bode well for my prospects as a mother.

And then I got the call from the guard downstairs.

We've got a cat hanging around in the bushes ... looks like yours. We're keeping him around with a piece of pizza. ...

I raced downstairs and they took me to the area 35 floors below my lanai. There was the pizza, lying flat on a stone. I called out to Jack and heard a small meow.

Jack crawled out from under a bush and looked at me.

I picked him up, dumbstruck. He had a little cut on his chin. That's it.

I took him to the vet, of course, and he was fine. The vet explained that cats have a falling "kill zone" of around four to 14 stories: It's a short enough distance for them to tense up, and the tension causes major injury (or worse) when they hit ground. farther than that, they just ... float. Sometimes they survive.

Well, Jack's not going to test that principle again — my lanai screens are closed.

But others have. A few months ago, there was a story in the local news about a black cat surviving a 17-story fall.

I made a point of showing it to Jack.

He yawned.

Reach Christine Strobel at cstrobel@honoluluadvertiser.com.