Yesterday Mel came to visit with her gorgeous wee boy Ollie. Unlike Alex (who is five days his senior) Ollie is a master crawler, so I thought it would be a good idea to put the baby gate up in the doorway to the room containing the cat litter trays. It worked a treat - Alex happily sat in the lounge and watched Ollie crawl up the hallway and back again.
I left the gate up after they left, partly because Alex might all of a sudden get the urge to crawl into the spare room, partly because the cats may as well get used to it being there and partly because I'm lazy. Mostly because I'm lazy.
Later in the afternoon I found Basil sitting in the hallway looking a bit sad. So I picked him up and dropped him on the other side of the gate. He seemed happy and went to sit on the windowsill so I carried on with what I had been doing. When I came back 10 minutes later he was lying down against the baby gate again, but this time he was still in the spare room. O...kay. I picked him up and deposited him back in the hallway.
As I was getting ready for bed I found Basil lying on the spare room side of the baby gate again, so I threw a toy mouse past the door to see what he'd do. Extreme front leg extension through the gate, but no hopping over it. I fed Zari some of her new dental bikkies. Basil got all excited, and his
hunger greed eventually got the better of him and he hopped over.
I went to bed last night, marvelling at the cat who could apparently scale a 6' tall fence to escape the courtyard or climb onto the roof of our house but couldn't manage a 60cm high wooden door barrier. Little did I know he'd get a whole pile stupider this morning...
Alex and I were on the floor in the middle of the lounge while I changed her nappy when a brush-tailed Basil zoomed past. Mrraaoooowwwww he howled, as he sped around the coffee table and bolted to the other end of the lounge. This amused Alex. He cornered, mrrraaaoooowwwed and took off for another lap. Tail up, ears back, impressively nimble for one who "carries his weight well". After completing his two laps of the lounge he zoomed past us again and headed down the hallway. I thought he just had a case of the zoomies and carried on changing Alex.
Then it hit me. I could smell poo. Cat poo. So much stinkier than baby poo. Oh good lord. I held my breath and raced into the spare room to open the window and spied a cat-splat in the litter tray. Upon returning to the lounge for some fresh (ish) air, I spotted some cat poo on my purse. And some on the carpet next to it. And some on the carpet by the coffee table. Tiny potent gloopy stink bombs dotted around the lounge along the path Basil had just taken. Wut.
I'll spare you the details of the cleanup process, but I have now concluded that Basil's thought process went something like this: Ohmygod, my belly is rumbling!!! Rumbling lots! I need to poo!!! Ohgodohgodohgodohgod!!!! There's something blocking the doorway to the litter trays!! But I need to poo!!! I can't get in!! Ohgodohgodohgod!! Arrghhh!! *puff puff* Arrrgghhhh!!!!
I have *the* most special cat. And a shitty purse.