So MaeMae wails to go outside at the back door on a regular basis, and the wind died down today so when she hopped on the blue chair, where we apply her harness and leash, well, okay, we’ll read outside a while.
Abby and Beloved joined us; MaeMae started out on the wall then relocated to my chest.
At that point Abbs decided she was jealous and started to grumble.
Then el gato decides to do her Magellan act and wants to go exploring. Okay… but that’s a six foot leash, kitteh, have fun in the wilds of right-next-to-me ‘cause I’m comfy sitting here reading in the sun. Especially now I don’t have a freakin’ mog on my boobs.
So she heads up the bank as far as she can go. And starts to dig.
Beloved’s eyes widen.
“Is she…”
Holy cats! She is DIGGING A HOLE. Suddenly my head is filled with visions of dumping the box and simply taking the cat out to pee like the dog. Only… I don’t even hafta use a baggie. The cat, our little turdy undertaker, buries what I have to trash for the hound. YESSSSS…
She stands up, then settles in over her mini-latrine, back straight, tail out.
THANK YOU GOD NO MORE CAT LITT… wait, what’s she doing?
She stands up, having produced nothing, and seems to deem that particular locale insufficient. She shuffles off then starts digging again, and I too shift to give her a bit more slack. After all, a girl needs some maneuvering room, right?
She again squats over her Porto-hole and almost immediately abandons it.
C’mon, MaeMae, just widdle! We can do this!
She looked over her shoulder (“I’m working on it, I’m working on it!”) so I scraped my chair forward to give her more space.
Dig dig dig.
Squat.
Nothing. The dirt was as barren as the Sahara at midsummer.
She hopped up and headed off to dig once more.
I started to stand up as Beloved remarked, “you realize she’s just getting more slack on her leash, right? She doesn’t need to pee, she wants to go further.”
Seriously?! I’m being manipulated by the cat to let her explore?
Sure enough, when she had more room to move, her digging stopped. Dammit!
So much for my dreams. I’d call her a stupid cat, but… she’s…not.
ExaminingMisadventures 