Oh My Cat. Little did we know when we complained about Mom hiring a catsitter. At least she made sure that someone was looking after us while she’s away!
I’ve good reason for sitting anxiously on the hat rack. Our human left us at 3.30 pm. We knew something was wrong because she packed a bag and dished up a lot of food. She looked kind of guilty and mumbled something like “be good girls” and that she “needs to sleep somewhere else”.
I took Kajsa to the vet the other day because she was having troubles with her anal gland. As I only had to carry one transportation box, I didn’t take our pram. People were still stirring at me, but I felt like a very ordinary person on this bus, taking a casual ride with my cat.
Are your humans as silly as ours? Mom got really excited when she found a heart in our litter tray.
Of course she had to get her cell to take a picture! Humans are so weird. Mom always washes her hands after scooping our litter tray, but touching the screen of her smartphone while cleaning litter trays is of course something totally different.
Why again do humans laugh about cat logic? The logic of cat owners is far more bizarre!
Mom’s been closing the bathroom door ever since Intruder K. stepped into our Queendom because humans don’t like sharing bathroom noises and smells. Isn’t it an international law that girls go to the bathroom together? At least we love to join Mom: Tessa often uses the litter box next to Mom’s while I ensure some quality lap time.
As most cats, we don’t like closed doors, so we don’t want to be with Mom in the bathroom when the door is closed. I also take my time to decide whether I want to go to the bathroom at all, and I want to make this important decision on the doorstep.
You should think that K. does enough damage by forcing Mom to close the door, but it gets worse!
K. thinks it’s silly that Mom “allows” me to be on her lap.
K. thinks that Mom’s totally nuts because we’ve a highly developed routine.
You know, it’s very hard to jump directly from the floor on Mom’s lap. I’ve to jump onto the flush behind Mom, go to the sink, balance on its edge and eventually jump on Mom’s lap. It’s a torture I can’t go through every time, so I’m meowing until Mom lifts me up. But that’s not the only thing Mom has to do: I don’t like her skin, so she has to put up her trousers as far as possible. She also has to lift her legs (“stand” on her toes) – I want the slope to be towards her belly, not the floor.
I don’t understand why our bathroom routines are any of K.’s business. Can you believe that she even wanted to take our freedom of speech? K. says that Mom shouldn’t allow me to blog on this topic because “snuggling with your cat on your lap while relieving yourself” is not the kind of thing to share online. Well…. I’m sure she has not read many cat blogs?