She came into my life about four years ago,
an injured stray who ended up losing one of her back legs.
The vet said, maybe a coyote attack?
But I think, like the Book of Adam guy with his three-legged cat...
...I'm going to start saying she lost it to a shark bite,
like the surfer girl in Hawaii.
HOWEVER, I DIGRESS.
Sophie thinks I and the other humans in the house are the bee's knees,
but she and the other cats do NOT get along.
Most of the time it's an uneasy detente,
but for some reason the two little cats decided that Sophie didn't get to use their litter box,
and like little punks they ambushed her when she exited.
This meant poor Sophie was having litter box anxiety,
so to make a long, pee-filled story short,
The Girl hit upon having a dedicated litter box for Sophie.
We set up a Breeze litter box in the downstairs bathroom...
... but I hate seeing an open litter box every time I hit the bathroom.
So in a stroke of genius, I made my own covered litter box!
I realized the pet carrier taking up room in the garage
was just the right size for the Breeze box.
I placed the litter box inside,
removed the carrier door,
covered it with a pretty towel...
... and voila!
a covered cat litter box!
This is what Sophie sees...
... and this is what I see from the sink.
The beauty of this hack is it only cost me the price of the towel,
and took me all of five minutes.
What I wanted to talk about was last Sunday/Monday, when the unthinkable happened:
I forgot Sophie in the bathroom overnight!
Our usual routine is Sophie hops to the closed bathroom door...
...I let her in, close the door so she has privacy, and once she's done she sticks a paw out.
If I don't let her out right away, she starts hurling herself at the door.
But Sunday night, she was uncharacteristically quiet,
and I went to bed unaware she was still in there.
The next morning, The Sweet Man called up the stairs,
"Did you forget Sophie last night?"
I wailed as I clutched her to my bosom,
as though instead of leaving her in a warm, safe bathroom,
I'd left her outside in sub-zero weather to become a cat-sicle.
What to do?
I tried lurking outside the bathroom until I saw the tell-tale paw,
but, y'know, sometimes it takes time for a kitty to get her business done.
Then I hit on the perfect reminder:
(You can actually see two Sophie scars on my furry arm.
I love her, but she's not a perfect cat.)
I leave the scrunchy on the bathroom door,
but when I let Sophie in, I slip the scrunchy on my wrist.
Since I am neither a kid nor in the eighties...
... I am very much aware of the hair band bunched around my wrist.
Has it worked?
No extended stays for Sophie so far!
I think she forgives me.
(P.S. Seriously, click over to Book of Adam. The guy is hilarious.)