My cat watched me have a bath last night. Actually, 'watched' is the wrong word. She participated in my bath last night. Strolling up and down the edge of the bath, trying to stand on my thigh to get closer to the water, scooping water with a paw.* It was endlessly entertaining and I'd show you the photos I took but:
(a) admitting you take your phone in the bath is bad enough, let alone providing pictorial evidence of that tragic habit; and
(b) the photos accidentally included my pubic hair** in the bottom of the picture and I don't think we want that on the internet.
Is it odd that I don't shut her out of the bathroom? She often comes in during a shower to sit on the end of the tub and wait for me to turn off the water. At first I found being watched a little creepy but now I find I like the company (always someone to talk to!) and she gets a bit upset if excluded from the bathroom. I mean, it's not like she's actually sharing the bath or shower with me?***
Hey ho, the descent into sad cat lady continues.
*We have a southpaw in the house, it's always her left that she scoops with. Or is that because the dominant right is used for balance? I don't know and this probably isn't worth investigating furthe because SHE'S A CAT. Gosh, perspective, A.
**Yes, I have some. Now really, is that a surprise to you if you've ever read this blog before?
***Yes, I have conveniently forgotten the time Tabitha poohed in the bathtub. I'd like to think she's done a lot of maturing since then.