Happy A Bunch of Labor Activists and Wobblies died and got the shit kicked out of them so you could have a day off Day!
Ok, so I’m getting ready to sit down and watch Carnival Row. But I want to get this out of the way first.
1. Migraine update: Being out in bright sunlight without the magic sunglasses will still cause a migraine. 2 migraines, two weeks, a much better average. It did lead to a four hour nap in the middle of the day.
2. I told you you’d get more cat stuff.
So I sent a picture of the Enemy of Sleep sitting on the bathtub while I was going to the bathroom today to the Venomous Harridans group. This picture to be exact.
Having a cat means never pee-ing alone.
The Enemy always has to come supervise when I’m in the bathroom, and when the Geek Husband What Rules is in there. Her new trick is to sit there facing the other direction and pat my thigh until I pet her. (Our bathroom is super tiny.).
I posted this on the Harridans slack, and this started a thread about those of us with pets who feel the need to either supervise bathroom time, the Enemy also stands guard in the bathroom doorway when I’m taking a shower, or if you have their litterbox in there, will come in to use it while you’re on the toilet.
The Man, our big orange boy who died a few years ago, was one of these. But only with me. If I went into the bathroom and he knew it, he would race from the other end of the house to get in the litterbox, turn himself around so his head stuck out (covered litterboxes), and then look up at me all pleased like, “We’re doin’ this together, right?”
In the house, we referred to this as “Poopin’ with Mom.”
As in, a housemate would ask, “Where’d The Man go?”
The GHWR would respond, “He’s Poopin’ with Mom.”
What most of us with co-operative poopers want to know is, why?
The internet was zero help.
I got several different answers for why they run in there with you varying from “You’re a captive audience on the toilet,” to “You could be meeting other cats if not constantly supervised.” But no two really seem to agree. And while I found someone else asking the co-pooping question, I also found no good answers.
So, apparently veterinary science is letting us down.
Not all of a my cats have been bathroom cats. But the ones who are, are adamant about it and trying to shut them out results in yelling at top volume and paws shoved desperately under doors with little struggley grunting noises from the other, like they’re trying to pull the door open.
The Grrsl would come supervise, but didn’t feel she had to “go” at the same time you did.
The Man was the most enthusiastic co-pooper.
Mutt was neutral.
Serebnaya would WAIL if you shut her out.
Moose will sometimes co-poop.
Ayla will see you in, but wants out immediately.
The internet is likewise unhelpful about why the Enemy waits until I’m in the room with her to poop, if she can. Ogre suspects that it’s because she feels safe enough to let down her guard to poop when I’m near, because I’ll protect her. Cats are very social creatures. Feral cats tend to form Colonies, where they can have each others’ backs. Maybe it’s less nerve-wracking to poop while someone stands guard, which would explain their attendance when we go to the bathroom. I’m still not sure about the co-pooping, but whatever. Hopefully at some point cat behavioralists will catch up with all of their weirdness.
Right now the Enemy is curled up next to my knees while I type this.
On a completely unrelated note, I just had to quit listening to one of my favorite paranormal/cryptozoology podcasts because they decided to link Jeffrey Epstein’s death with all of the various and sundry conspiracy theories about the Clintons.
And I’m out. Dudes, no. I love a good conspiracy theory as much as the next girl with an over-active imagination, but seriously?
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