I once had a cat who used flailing vertically from a first floor balcony as his primary method of exit. Other routes were available (doors, a cat flap) but he preferred his several-times-daily death leap. When he moved with my then-g/f to a 7th floor council flat we never imagined he'd try the same trick at that height, but after frantically searching every cupboard and crevice one morning we reluctantly conceded he must have found a way out & peered over the balustrade. 100ft below we saw an elderly gay neighbour and his obese staff, Henry, sniffing at the bush we later discovered Abraham under. He'd survived his stunt with only a bruised bladder, but fearing a repeat we retired him to a parent in rural Yorkshire the following weekend. He lived another ten years, adding other tricks to his repetoire such as regularly pissing on electric fires, presumably to hear the sizzle.
