Andare, Partire, Tornare ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- The little shit. Literally. I have a beanbag chair that has been empty and in storage for ages, but finally had the yen to put back into service. The Bemo ordered some filler material, but it wasn't enough, so I left the chair, half-full and saggy, to be finished later. Woe is me. I never expected it, but Dexter has taken the beanbag chair to be an exotic, very exciting new form of litterbox. He's pooped in it three times, even after I moved it up to a chair where I thought it was out of temptation's way. It must be something about the way it feels under his paws, or the fact that he can rearrange it to cover his little pile. Now I have to remove all the filling, wash it in Nature's Miracle, and consider whether or not I really want to get more filling and use it. I'd probably have to store it in the closet whenever it's not actually in use, which is a pain, but better than settling down in it for a nice read and discovering that I'm perched in poo. First there was the attacking the ornaments on the tree, and now the poop. I know a certain little boy cat who's going to get coal in his stocking. 5:49 p.m. - 2004-12-22 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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