This is one of the 'other happenings' promised in this blog title that is not about knitting. These posts may become more frequent depending on how many amusing stories I have to tell. And whether or not anyone else actually finds them amusing.
This one, thrillingly, is about cat pee.
We have two cats - one very old and one very young. And what do the very old and very young of any species have in common? Poor bladder control.
Actually, now I think about it, these two cats may actually have superb bladder control. It's the only way to explain how they can saunter past the litter tray, down the stairs, into the bathroom and pee on my bath mats. That's right - I can no longer have bath mats in my house because one, or both, of these cats has a secret vendetta against me.
It started, innocently enough, with the very old cat. If I left clothes lying on the floor next to the bed, I would wake up to find them soaked in cat pee. Maybe she's trying to tell me to tidy up - although my dear other half has just about all of his wardrobe stored on the floor on his side and it all stays bone dry! I knew it was her because we were between kittens at the time - due to our poor kitten screening abilities we always end up with suicidally stupid little cats and sadly, one met a premature end under a car. My first thought was 'oh, poor thing, she can't make it downstairs to the littler tray in time,' and being that she is elderly, we bought and filled an upstairs tray to save her the embarassment of having to pee on clothing.
But, one night I woke up to find her sitting on my jeans, staring at me and peeing with gay abandon! (I assume it was gay abandon - cat expressions are hard to read.) That was when I became convinced that she hated me. I had moved in and usurped her as queen of her suburban, 3 bed, semi-detached castle. Unfortunately, boyfriend is in some kind of hypnotic, feline thrall to this particular cat, and no amount of bitching from me could make him see this as a problem. Until she peed on some comics.
Mysteriously, the guerilla peeing soon stopped, and life went back to normal. Until the bath mats. And now that we have a new furry friend with a death wish I have no idea who is responsible. There are also suspiciously smelly spots on the hall carpet. My house always smells of cat pee, which is deeply embarassing to me - though not to the boyfriend, who doesn't seem to notice this.
This whole saga has made me a little more unhinged than usual, so caught up am I in trying to catch the furry culprit. But they two of them are wily buggers - they once even managed to come into the bathroom while I was showering and pee on the clothes I had just taken off. I didn't even notice. This means war.
So, until this pee bandit is apprehended, there is a high likelihood of sustaining a head injury while showering at my house. Just remember, that as your face hurtles towards the tasteful green tiling, to curse the damn cats. I accept no responsiblity for their mayhem.