Thursday, January 14, 2010


This morning I woke up, took a shower, then pulled on the jeans I wore yesterday.

 The smell of piss met me, and the cold dampness on my legs told me my shower was in vain this morning.
In the night, one of our cats betrayed my trust and pissed on my jeans.
Playing back the night, I was awoken by Sylvester sliding between me and Andrea, flopping into my arms and purring, demanding to be pet.
Lady crept onto the other side of me, and I was in a kitty sandwich.
Vlad, all sweetness and light, never sleeps with us. He just waits until 7 AM on the button and begins pretending he's having a heart attack, and tries to tear the blinds open.

Who deserved euthanasia? That's the real question we're asking here. Which one of these duplicitous bastards are responsible for this unasked-for urine sample?

I'm ruling Vlad out immediately. He's not the pisser type; he merely wants you to throw things for him to chase and he's happy.
Sylvester makes sense. It would explain his purrs of happiness when he came up to me last night; I have open wounds proving he doesn't like me nearly as much as he was letting on last night. His purrs could have been the contentment of claiming my jeans as his own. His flops were him rubbing more of his piss on me.
Completely, totally plausible.
But I think it was Lady. I think she saw me petting Sylvester and wanted to inform me in no uncertain terms that that is Not OK.
I know anthropomorphizing animals is a silly cat-crazy thing to do, but this was not random piss. This was intentional and malicious.
This was the piss of jealousy.

No comments:

Post a Comment