I may have mentioned before that we have a cat.
For a while now the cat has refused to use the cat tray. You know the one? Where he does his business and I have been nominated to clean it up as often as it needs it.
Well, perhaps in sympathy with my unwelcome task, the cat has now decided to leave his little presents wherever he wishes. On the doorstep. In the garden. On my car, but thankfully not in the house any more. The cat tray is as clean as the last time I changed it.
I asked my neighbour for advice. Especially about leaving poo on my car roof. And he assured me it was not him.
He then explained that maybe the cat was doing birds impressions and laughed as he got into his house.
In desperation I started asking everyone for advice ... including you right now.
The milkman said "Don't ask me mate! I know nothin' about cats. On the udder hand, I know about cows!"
That's exactly what he said "... on the udder hand ..." as he drove away in his milk float laughing.
Someone suggested I take the cat to an animal psychiatrist. Now, I know such people existed from the last time I had a cat problem. This same cat had started killing birds, mice, frogs and other creatures in the garden and bringing them in the house.
I took him to the animal psychiatrist who explained that the cat was behaving normally and was sharing his trophies with me - hence bringing them into the house. He didn't solve the problem, and I paid him handsomely for pointing out the obvious.
So this time I was reluctant to take the cat back but I was outnumbered a million to one. Something that often happens in our household where the family's votes count more than mine.
The doctor chap put the cat on a couch and started talking to it. "Hello little treasure," he said, " are you unhappy in your surroundings? Has someone upset you? Tell me about it!"
Obviously the cat did not talk back. That would have surprised the both of us I tell you. But it sat there as the man caressed it an purred gently.
After a few minutes the man asked me "Have you been upsetting this cat?"
"Who? Me? Of course not ..." I replied with more of an air of indignation in my voice. "In fact his habits have become intolerable. He started climbing up the curtains and sleeping on top of the wardrobe."
"I suggest that's where you should place the cat's litter tray," he said, "on top of the wardrobe!"
"He'll realise that on top of the wardrobe is not a place to sleep. You don't sleep in the toilet do you?"
"Of course I don't!" I retorted, "But I don't sleep on top of the wardrobe either!"
"Precisely ..." he said with a smile, "it's because you're afraid you'd fall off. Well, the cat is not afraid to fall off because he is a cat and you are not. But when he sees the cat tray there he'll do his business in there instead!"
"BUT I DON'T WANT HIM POOING ON TOP OF THE WARDROBE" I cried in desperation.
"Oh ...it's only for a week or two," he said, "then you can move the tray on the floor, then a few feet further away, then a few feet more, and eventually in its original place where it always was. And all will return to normal. The cat told me so!"
I had to pay him a fortune for this outrageous advice.
Well ... what do you think?
Where is your cat litter tray?
And whilst you're at it ... where do you sleep? On top of the wardrobe or in the toilet?
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