Not only is Jonah convinced that cats fall from the sky (the overlook), he now has reason to believe that if he barks loud enough and long enough when Barnabas decides to hop onto the ledge to stare down at us lowly humans, then he can summon the cat. Or better yet, convince him with his whining, wheedling, ear-drum-shattering barks, to come play with him.
Because Lo! He barked, and Barney did come. And landed on the chair right in front of him, where (in Jonah's mind, anyway), they exchanged pleasantries (loud, joyful barks of welcome mixed with cries of distress and loud and insistent hissing) and Barney commenced a game of boxing (clawing desperately to gain some space between them) and a rousing game of chase (Barney ran up those stairs faster than I would have though possible).
All in all, a rousing success, in Jonah's eyes. And an experience he is quite determined to repeat, hence the soulful, mournful stares directed firmly upwards and loud, joyful barking and back-end-wriggling-in-delighted-anticipation whenever Barneybutt (the most used nickname at present) makes an appearance on the ledge. He often leaves in sheer disgust because he just wants to enjoy some quiet superiority, but Jonah will bark so.
On the bright side for us humans who grit our teeth through this and remark on how they have to work it out amongst themselves, Barney is more and more willing to come downstairs and his reticence with Jonah seems to have dissipated somewhat since learning he won't be eaten by Jonah and knowing he has the advantage in speed and hops and the safety of a gate.
Still. My ears may never recover.