Dear Cats

If you’re going to crowd into the bathroom with me while I scrub it, you could at least grab a cloth or a scrub brush and help instead of just watching or getting in the way.

Love,
Me.

5 thoughts on “Dear Cats

  1. paze

    So true.

    Whenever I sweep, Phoebe likes to sit right in the middle of the pile of dust, while Ben enjoys playing with the pile of dust, neither of which is remotely helpful when what *I* need to do is sweep the pile of dust onto a dustpan and into the trash.

  2. Phnee

    When I first got George, one of the first things he did was come and watch me wash the floors. I had a bucket full of hot water and Mr. Clean. George then decided (he was a Tiny Kitn at the time) that it would be a good idea to jump into the bucket.

    I don’t think I’ve ever moved that fast in my life.

    I grabbed him by the scruff of the neck and raced him, dripping, into the bathroom, turned on the water full blast and held him, squirming and squalling, under the tap, until I was sure all the cleaning product was off him.

    Sheesh. Cats.

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