Recently, some dear friends went out of town and asked me if I would swing by their house and take care of their cats. They left me with a key, an entire roll of plastic poop bags, and the longest list of instructions ever. If one of the cats had decided to set the other cats on fire, I was well-prepared. As the parent of three spoiled dogs, I totally get it.
The cats and I had a fun time together all week. OK, that is a lie. Puma is the only cat that ever came out of hiding, so we had a fun time together. The other two hunkered down under the bed for the entire week, only coming out to eat, poop, and throw as much litter around the bathroom as felinely possible. Once, I did catch one of them peering at me from around the corner when I was cleaning out her box. I felt a little bit like she was judging me.
My friends asked if I would send them an occasional picture, and I was more than happy to oblige. I might not get asked to catsit again.
|Puma is my buddy, and he followed me around the house meowing and angling for a good head scratching from the time I walked through the door. I do forgive him for that one time he bit me (mostly because it was totally my fault).|
|I mean, they HAD TO be inviting their cat friends over when I wasn't around. I just can't believe that three cats can poop that much. It doesn't seem physically possible.|
|I like to refer to this one simply as "Us"|
|Yep, it felt that creepy too.|