...Er, um, Hello!

My name is Augustus. I have parents. Sometimes life can be difficult. I possess the great skill of being able to charm the socks off of anyone who chances to spot me, a rare occurrence indeed. [The spotting, that is; not the charming!]
However, for you, Dear Reader, I am prepared to divulge my deepest thoughts and perspective of the world, mostly because if I don't tell somebody what is going on around here, I am going to pop!
But be warned, proceed with caution: Living with Mummy and Dad can be rather harrowing at times...

Monday, February 20, 2012

Augustus, The Litterbug

Today I was keeping myself occupied with a bit of housekeeping.

With 7 cats, and only 3 litter boxes, things can get out of place in a hurry. Mummy and Dad see to it that the boxes are properly cleaned and freshened twice daily so that really isn’t the problem. What happens is that Poppet gets in the freshly cleaned boxes and cannot seem to decide which one he wishes to use so he goes in all three, apparently solving his moral dilemma by avoiding choice altogether. When that happens, it doesn’t leave a lot of fresh litter for the rest of us. 

So I took it upon myself to set things a’right after his visit this morning.

I jumped in Box #1 and started scratching around, trying to decide which direction would be best to move the litter. I scratched and swept, turning this way and that, arranging and rearranging until I was fairly satisfied with the results.

I hopped over into Box #2 and repeated the process; by the time I got to Box #3, I was in rare form, digging deeply into the fresh litter (except for where Poppet had already been – that wasn’t so fresh) and flipping the grains behind me, between my back legs, over my shoulders…

What I have failed to mention up to this point is that earlier in the day, Mummy had removed the boxes then steam-cleaned the floor and polished it. Everything was sparkling clean which was quite appealing.

Once I reached a reasonable stopping point in my duties, I jumped out of Box #3 and landed in**Hello** a fresh pile of litter! I wonder where that came from? I stretched a bit, shaking the litter from my toes, determined that I should ponder this mystery later.

Having decided that a nice nap would be in order, I then wandered ‘round the corner. 

When I heard my name shouted in that oh-so-familiar nasty tone, and the words “Get your fuzzy buns in here!”, I suspected something was up. 

A visit to the underside of the bathtub seemed to be in order. 

All I heard for the next half hour was sweeping, the roar of The Monster as he devoured the remains of that mysterious pile of litter, the high pitched whine of the steamer, and perhaps a few [not so nice] grumbles from Mummy. 

You know, the view beneath the bathtub really is quite nice…

No comments:

Post a Comment