Black cat (had a rough) day
In honor of Black Cat Day, it seemed fitting to pay tribute to the rough morning experience by our newest black cat, Merry.
Poor Merry cat has had a rough morning. She was minding her business playing with her brother, when he decided he had some business to take care of. He went over the to top entry catbox we keep in the office.
Merry, being the community minded sort decided to keep him company and jumed into the box with him. But that made the litterbox too crowded, so he jump out and squatted over the hole in the top of the box and began to do his business … right above his sister.
Needles to say Merry was not a fan of the process and launched her poo-covered self out of the box, thus initiating a chase of the poo-covered kitten across the house as Pip finished his business and wondered what was going on.
After taking a grand tour of the downstairs, Merry wasescorted to enjoy confinment to the small bathroom whilst I rounded up towels and dog shampoo (because who in their right mind makes cat shampoo) and a not too unwilling extra set of hands. Where upon Merry had indignity heaped upon indignity and was subjected to a thorough bath in the sink to removed the original indignity that had been heaped upon her.
Only a little blood was drawn as the kitten was cleansed of all unrighteousness and set free to do all manner of good works once more. She began at once, practicing her most pathetic look and garnering treats for all cat who came, including her brother who clearly bore the fault for everything.
After graciously sharing treats with all, she required we all do penance, deprived of her presence as she retreated to a cardboard box. After sufficient deprivation, she deigned offer me forgiveness and returned to the primary desk-cat station.
I’m dying. The mental picture of that chase scene accompanied by the Benny Hill music of course is cracking me up. Poor kitty that’s definitely a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day. ? Hopefully the lesson was learned of one cat per litterbox at a time ?
Yes, if you have more than one cat, you need more than one litter box. Merry will hopefully return to her “merry” self!
The first black cat that owned me arrived from the heart of the desert spat out by a phenomenal lightning storm. Bacardi claimed his kingdom (my home) and his subjects (me) as his god given right as kitten. He was my first owner and though I am sure he despaired at times at my ineptitude as a beloved servant I slowly caught on to what was owed my master. I was his food taster, he was never poisoned on my watch and I was even encouraged to eat some of the feast myself! He particularly and peculiarly loved fresh coconut meat and pickled jalapeno slices as well as the occasional cantaloupe seed. I was made to patrol the borders of our realm with him on a daily basis to rescue the post from the mailbox and ensure no enemies were lurking in the desert about us. When I was late home from work he would wait by the road in the desert and escort me home, claws primed and at the ready for every mayhem. He was crafty, funny, demanding and fierce! I was honored to serve him. He was my first love, my first heartbreak, and my best friend. The desert who gifted him to me reclaimed him in the end. Since then every night I sleep and dream I have a fearsome black protector who will arrive in the midst of the most horrific of nightmares and lead me surely out of them into a different dream, as he did through some of the most turbulent times in our life together. All Hail the Magnificent Black Cat on Black Cat day!
Oh dear! The vision of the chase isn’t pretty! I hope you managed to contain the problem from contaminating the house? The closest I’ve been to having a cat was taking care of my friend’s each year while she was on holiday and entertaining one which always followed my daughter into the house, no idea whose it was! I doubt my budgie would have appreciated one as he was used to having an open cage!
Not a black cat story, but ….. One Saturday afternoon many years ago, my husband startled me by rushing up the basement stairs and out the kitchen door. He returned with a tiny female tabby who had looked in the basement window and told him to come to her rescue. She was either lost or abandoned and very hungry. Since we lived on a busy 4-lane street, we took her in. The vet who examined her said she was 4 or 5 months old but so tiny she fit in my husband’s shoe. Of course she had to supervise our morning ablutions, and one morning she couldn’t figure out all the rain noise going into the toilet. She decided to investigate by diving head first from the sink into the just used water before I got the lid put down. The look on her face was a priceless “oops”. When we fished her out, she looked as wet and unhappy as your picture of Merry — and that was before her first bath. She actually tolerated the bath with minimal scolding, but the hair dryer was another trauma altogether. She only tried the toilet dive once more before she learned that toilets have lids and she was much happier and dryer when the lid was closed before practicing her diving technique.
I used to have a blackie, adopted from a coworker who’d found her but whose other, MUCH larger cats (one was a Maine coon mix) decided the household wasn’t big enough for one more cat. Cassandra would often indulge in what we dubbed “Cat Town races”, zooming around the apartment. One night she failed to notice that the bedroom door was closed and ran right into it. We didn’t see it happen but definitely heard the THUMP! She walked majestically back into the living room with a very “I *meant* to do that” attitude.