Abraracourcix voices his intentions of using the litter box. He always does that - his Siamese blood compels him to say something. So he loudly informs anyone who cares to listen, that he is now in fact on his way to the kitty litter box to attend to some kitty business.
One inch from the bright green plastic container he abruptly stops. It's time to inspect the contents. The box is half filled with fresh kitty litter - the new kind that consists of super-absorbent crystal clear silicone stones plus a few scattered cobalt blue ones, giving it a sort of royal appearance, save for the hideous green plastic container that I've been dragging along with me for what seems like centuries, ever since I bought it for our very first cat.
(When old Tarzan finally went to cat heaven, I used the litter box for anything from the washing of paint brushes to the nurturing of seedlings, and in between various other uses I hoarded it in the garage like I hoard everything else that I just cannot throw away as I am cursed with a terrible sense of sentiment and guilt regarding wasting of any kind)
Coursix seems to approve of the state of the silicone stones, stepping into the box cautiously, and then promptly lets his hair down, so to speak. He suddenly works ferociously towards the makings of a hole the size of Kimberlys diamond mine from the meagre pile of precious stones, a mere 4 inches deep, resulting in a growing heap of silicone on the floor next to the green container from hell, which makes me wonder, for the umpteenth time, who the hell decided that a standard kitty litter box, barely 4 and a half inches deep, should be filled with kitty litter 4 inches deep, as is stated clearly on every kitty litter bag! Coursix doesnt mind though. It is not part of his duties to sweep the floor. No sir! His only duty is to practice the art of scratch pole clawing which, I have to admit, he is pretty good at.
So after digging for probably 20 or 30 minutes, he is finally satisfied that the hole is big enough. As I am watching it occurs to me that I might just as well get rid of the ugly box and just throw the kitty litter straight on my bathroom floor, since that is exactly where it all lands up in the end anyway.
Abraracourcix now finds his Siamese blood wrestling with other parts of his DNA. He is not 100% pure Siamese. His father may have been from noble descent but his mother had a bit of a wild cat look about her, although fortunately, in outward appearances, he definitely takes more after his father, with the exceptional Siamese colouring and sapphire eyes.
He remembers from instinct long forgotten that his butt is not supposed to touch the ground when he pushes putty but, without the complete set of Siamese chromosomes, he never figured out how to use a toilet bowl, save for climbing on it in order to get to the window sill for purposes of throwing heavy stuff onto the said toilet bowl, resulting in huge financial misfortune to his unfortunate owners.
As a crude alternative to becoming skilled at using human sanitary equipment, like so many of his fellow pedigree brothers and sisters often do, Coursix learned to perch on the corner of the cat box, teetering forward and backward, clutching for dear life to the thin sides of the container, with only his left front paw on the bathroom floor, to prevent him from falling over during the procedure, heaven forbid!
Just look at him! The most extraordinary frown on his little cat face... the blue eyes narrowed, staring into space... concentrating... serious... and then... a sudden movement to indicate the end of the sitting, followed by an elaborate effort to bury any evidence as well as move the remaining crystals from inside the box to the existing heap on the floor. I am convinced that Coursix hates that repulsive green dinosaur as much as I do.
I should really get a new kitty litter box!
(written by Tiamari)
Showing all records: