surprisedBecause Alice, like so many Maine Coons, likes to play with water. And the toilet? Is full of water. Once your nasty tissue has been in my toilet, I don't particularly want the cat to fish it out and bring it to me, thanks.
Last night, when I got home from work, I performed the standard checks—are both cats present? Are both cats breathing? Have they managed to break anything large and/or visible? After confirming yes, yes, and no, I went about my business. At some point during the "business" part of the program, Alice wandered off to do kitten things. This didn't concern me much; kittens are mysterious creatures, and spend a lot of time off doing kitten things, which usually end with a loud crash and a startled-looking puffball racing back into the bedroom. No big deal.
After I'd finished unpacking my bags, scanning some art cards, and eating dinner, I proceeded to the bathroom. The toilet lid was down. Repeat: the toilet lid was down, indicating safety. I began to sit.
The toilet said, inquisitively, "Mrph?"
Having seen approximately eight hundred hours-worth of horror cinema in my lifetime, I was once more fully dressed in less than five seconds. Furthermore, I was standing in the bathtub, that being the furthest I could reasonably get from the toilet without having the presence of mind to flee the bathroom entirely. I looked into the toilet bowl. Alice, balled calmly in the bottom of it, looked back. Meet my kitten, the TOILET SHARK.
I got her to leave the toilet by putting a few inches of water in the tub and encouraging her to play with that instead. She happily submerged several of her feather toys and went off to coax Lilly into the bath. Lilly, being, I don't know, an actual cat, was having none of it. (Alice got her comeuppance later, when her aquatic adventures required her to have a good brushing. Somehow, I doubt this is going to make her learn.) At least I know why she's damp all the damn time...
You know, the horror movies of the 1980s taught me to check toilets before I sat down, because they might contain monsters. It took me years to break this habit, thinking it was a foolish fear. Shows what I know. In conclusion, when you come over to my place...
...look down before you pee. You might be sorry if you don't.
April 14 2009, 21:15:11 UTC 8 years ago
Good times.
April 15 2009, 00:55:13 UTC 8 years ago
*beth dies again; even the comments aren't safe!*
April 15 2009, 01:26:11 UTC 8 years ago
But they would come into the bathroom. And be Stealth Ninja Weasels until they found something to do the Weasel War Dance at.
Once the WWD started, there was no hope for any of us. The toilet tissue would be destroyed and unrolled, then carried through the house in an odd trail so they could find the bathroom again if they got lost.
We finally gave up and got toilet locks after fishing them out repeatedly during one awful Super Stealth Weasel Ninja day. No matter what we did, they got away and got into trouble.
God, I miss those two. They'd play with my Bichon puppy, pouncing, tackling, chasing, being chased. Great memories.
April 16 2009, 20:35:48 UTC 8 years ago