Seanan McGuire (seanan_mcguire) wrote,
Seanan McGuire
seanan_mcguire

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Attack of the unstoppable TOILET SHARK.

Over the past week, my house has developed two new bathroom-based rules. First off, even if you just dropped a tissue into the water, you need to flush. I don't care if it wastes water. If you're that worried about wasting water, throw your tissues in the trash, not the toilet. Second off, close the lid. Not the seat; the lid. Why?

Because 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.
Tags: alice, cats, horror movies, oh the humanity
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