The wee furry bastard strikes again

Three years ago I adopted Missy. She was 9, had all her injections, was chipped and spayed and insured. She had apparently always lived in a flat, just as I do. Sadly, her human had died and I was told by a neighbour that he had always worried that she would never survive a cattery. She looked to be perfect for me. 

I've always had cats, although mostly they've been outdoor cats. 

Missy was pretty traumatised when she got here in the cat basket. I spent a lot of time socialising her. It was a while before she answered to her name. Now she eats well. Sleeps on my bed. Is very vocal when she wants something - like breakfast at 4.30am. I've got used to just getting up and feeding her then. 

She has her little ways. The big thing is she doesn't play. 

A friend tells me we often misunderstand "companion animals" even when we've had them around us all our and their lives: for example, a lot of dogs can't swim and have to be taught, although humans always think it's instinctive. 

I haven't been able to teach Missy to play (yet). 

The last week or so, she's been very active, tearing around the flat at all hours. She doesn't like it when I am at the computer. Jumps up on my back and sleeps on the keyboard. But she has recently taken a dislike to the cord that hang down over the back of the settee. It's my emergency contact. I've never had to use it, but Missy has. 

In the past week, she has set it off 3 times. And I've had to explain to the emergency contact people that the alarm has gone off because the cat has attacked the cord. Tonight I came back from Lidl to find a paramedic at my door. While I was out (for - I swear - no more than 20 minutes) she'd attacked the cord and set off the alarm. The paramedic - and the call centre staff because I had to contact them too - told me I hadn't answered the phone. I went to get a loaf, for gawdssake, so I didn't have the phone with me. They couldn't raise my next of kin so they came round. Whit a riddie, as we say in Glasgow. 

The only thing I could think of to do is to tie up the emergency cord. There's one in every room here, so it's not like I'm going to be isolated. So I got out the step stool and tied the cord up. The peace lasted about 2 hours and then Missy started to jump up to get it. Honestly, I'd no idea she was so agile. 

So here I am in the middle of the night, with the cord tied up even higher. And still she keeps on trying to get it! She's locked outside the livingroom right now, and I can hear her yowling and scratching to get in. 

What happens next, I wonder? 

Anybody want a demented cat?