The cat has discovered the joy of lurking between the shower liner and the outer shower curtain. I didn't see her hunched on the edge of the tub, tucked up close to the wall as I pulled the curtain for my shower. I didn't notice the tip of her fuzzy tail whipping back and forth as she peeked around the small gap near the wall, biding her time, waiting for the perfect moment to attack.
There I was, in my most vulnerable state, enjoying a nice hot shower, my hair and face covered in suds, when suddenly, I was dancing with a wet cat. She pounced on blob of shampoo, landing squarely on my foot.
I jumped and yelled, "What the hell?!" squinting through the suds that had now fallen into my eyes. I saw the blur at my feet as she hopped around the tub, trying to find the way out. I danced around trying to avoid stepping on her or slipping.
She ran around my feet, circling like a motorcycle daredevil in a giant barrel, climbing the side of the tub a little higher each time, but still unable to find her escape. I reached for the shower head, trying to divert it away from her as best I could, when the spout came off in my hand. Suddenly, the gentle jungle spray I was enjoying became a fire hose that hit me square in the face. I jumped back, zigging at the last second to avoid the crazy cat, who was now on her forty-third lap around the tub. My right foot slid west and my left slid east and it took only a nano-second for my ass to go south.
I missed the cat when I landed, but startled her enough that she stopped running. She had found the one spot in the tub that the fire hose seemed to avoid and was just sitting there, tail curled around her feet, little head cocked to one side, watching me as I struggled to get back on my feet.
I managed to get my feet under me, and stood up enough to get my balance. I turned off the water, reattached the shower head and looked down at the cat, who was still sitting there licking water off her paw. I pulled the shower curtain aside and told her she could go now.
She looked up at me, looked at the open curtain, and went back to licking her paw. After a second she looked back at me and meowed as if to say, "So, turn it back on, I need to rinse you know."
I picked her up and put her out for the tub. I was still covered in soap and did need to rinse and was not willing to do the cat dance again. I restarted the water, and kept my eye on the curtain this time. All was well.
When I pulled back the curtain, a terrible realization descended on me. You see, when I went into the bathroom originally, I closed the door -- of course. The cat was not in there when I did so. She has learned to open the door and that is how she'd found her way to visit me. The shower is directly across from the door. The bathroom is situated in such a way, that when the door is open, there is a clear view of the street through a living room door window, to the shower.
The UPS man smiled, tipped his hat and hurried away.
Tomorrow, I may sell tickets.
There I was, in my most vulnerable state, enjoying a nice hot shower, my hair and face covered in suds, when suddenly, I was dancing with a wet cat. She pounced on blob of shampoo, landing squarely on my foot.
I jumped and yelled, "What the hell?!" squinting through the suds that had now fallen into my eyes. I saw the blur at my feet as she hopped around the tub, trying to find the way out. I danced around trying to avoid stepping on her or slipping.
She ran around my feet, circling like a motorcycle daredevil in a giant barrel, climbing the side of the tub a little higher each time, but still unable to find her escape. I reached for the shower head, trying to divert it away from her as best I could, when the spout came off in my hand. Suddenly, the gentle jungle spray I was enjoying became a fire hose that hit me square in the face. I jumped back, zigging at the last second to avoid the crazy cat, who was now on her forty-third lap around the tub. My right foot slid west and my left slid east and it took only a nano-second for my ass to go south.
I missed the cat when I landed, but startled her enough that she stopped running. She had found the one spot in the tub that the fire hose seemed to avoid and was just sitting there, tail curled around her feet, little head cocked to one side, watching me as I struggled to get back on my feet.
I managed to get my feet under me, and stood up enough to get my balance. I turned off the water, reattached the shower head and looked down at the cat, who was still sitting there licking water off her paw. I pulled the shower curtain aside and told her she could go now.
She looked up at me, looked at the open curtain, and went back to licking her paw. After a second she looked back at me and meowed as if to say, "So, turn it back on, I need to rinse you know."
I picked her up and put her out for the tub. I was still covered in soap and did need to rinse and was not willing to do the cat dance again. I restarted the water, and kept my eye on the curtain this time. All was well.
When I pulled back the curtain, a terrible realization descended on me. You see, when I went into the bathroom originally, I closed the door -- of course. The cat was not in there when I did so. She has learned to open the door and that is how she'd found her way to visit me. The shower is directly across from the door. The bathroom is situated in such a way, that when the door is open, there is a clear view of the street through a living room door window, to the shower.
The UPS man smiled, tipped his hat and hurried away.
Tomorrow, I may sell tickets.
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