Cats in the doghouse

[np_complete]

My navy linen jacket slipped down onto the (tiled) entrance floor last night.

Tile floor + cloth = bathroom.  Or at least that seems to be how A Certain Furry Person Not Currently Entitled To Call Himself "My Cat" reasoned.

Fortunately it's a launder-able jacket, and fortunately I still have some Simple Green Pet Stain and Odor Remover - Cat.  That's

Comments

[lolaraincoat]

I was woken up this morning by the tragical yowl which long experience has taught me is Cat for "Oh no! I am going to hork up a huuuuuge hairball, and I am not close enough to your favorite rug!" The cat then loudly horked up a giant-ass hairball on my second-favorite rug, and jumped back on the bed purring loudly because now that he'd woken me up, surely I would pet him?

Which I did. Because I am a sucker.

[np_complete]

It's quite a good gig, being a housecat, isn't it?

(I'm told that the term "housecat" is offensive to cats. Good.)

[lolaraincoat]

Good gig, yeah. Except for the tragical daily catfood shortage. Sheesh.

[postynotedreams]

Argh, cats.

Shadow Cat agrees with Jack. All cloth-type things on the floor for any reason are possible litter-box alternatives.