Sounds like our house...

[Guest guest]

Meet Stan the Cat

Daisy Cabral

- So there's a new addition in the Cabral household. No, we didn't have a baby.

Let's face it, folks, if I was meant to breed, somebody would have invented a

self-cleaning baby by now. And if I'm going to be putting food in someone's

mouth in the middle of the night, you can pretty much bet it's going to be mine.

You know my motto: No leftover sees the light of day.

But enough about babies - at least the kind that actually come out of you.

Instead, let's talk about those fuzzy babies that never learn to talk.

Yeah, like that's a bad thing. If my dogs - you know, the Devil and her Helper -

ever gain the power of speech, I'll have to stop the car rides altogether. I can

just imagine what they'd yell out the car window at other dogs.

But now the furballs have some real competition in the Bad Behavior World

Series. Let me introduce to you this newest contestant, in the same way he was

introduced to us.

Picture this: New Year's Eve, about two minutes past midnight. There we were on

the couch, Cliffy and me, trying to keep our eyes open long enough to say " Dick

's still alive? " and then crawl to bed. Yep, true party animals. That's us.

Anyway, the ball dropped, we looked up from the couch, and there's our brand-new

kitten sitting in one of our planters. Staring right at us. Peeing.

Ladies and gentlemen, meet Stan the Cat.

A word of advice: Don't go to someone else's home and relieve yourself in one of

their houseplants. They're bound to take it the wrong way.

We certainly did. The worst part is, while we're yelling and throwing things and

running toward the planter, Stan just kept staring at us like we were bothering

him. He just flattened his scrappy, little ears and kept going, even when Cliff

grabbed him and hauled him off to the litter box.

You know, I once read a study that said housecats help lower people's stress

levels. Uh, yeah. That would be the people who don't actually own them, right?

Stan has since been introduced to that same litterbox on several occasions - and

every time, he gets this surprised, wide-eyed look, like he had no idea such a

place existed.

That same litterbox, however, has left an indelible mark on every other member

of the Cabral household.

It so happens I'm a big fan of " outdoor cats, " the kind that do their business

outside. As in, not inside. As in, not where I have to ever deal with it. But

Stan was such a cute, little baby when we got him this winter that we couldn't

bear the thought of sending him out in the cold. So, the litterbox entered our

lives. And the one animal that was supposed to use it couldn't be bothered.

The other pets, however, could hardly believe their good luck.

The dogs were thrilled to have their own poo-poo platter, as it were, available

to them on a 24-hour basis. Disgusting? Yes. Less disgusting than anything else

they do? Not so much.

And our big, old, 100-pound cat - that's Catzilla to you - has always had an

outside bathroom, much to her chagrin. For her, this litter box was nothing less

than a well-earned gift from the Cat Gods. That is, until she tried to use it.

See, we bought one of those boxes with the cover and the little door for the cat

to go through. Catzilla, it turns out, is not really built to go through little

doors, and proved this by getting herself stuck in said little door the day it

arrived.

Back end hanging out of the box, legs flailing, she tried desperately to squeeze

her ample belly through the Stan-sized opening. No luck there, but she did

manage to push herself and the box down the basement stairs in the process.

The good news is, Catzilla popped out on the first bounce, unharmed.

The bad news is, she's managed to convince Stan that the box is out to get them

both.

Next time, I'm getting a fish.

[Guest guest]

That is So funny.. and I can entirely identify with it!

Penny

Shrewsbury UK

Sounds like our house...

Meet Stan the Cat

Daisy Cabral

- So there's a new addition in the Cabral household. No, we didn't have a

baby. Let's face it, folks, if I was meant to breed, somebody would have

invented a self-cleaning baby by now. And if I'm going to be putting food in

someone's mouth in the middle of the night, you can pretty much bet it's going

to be mine. You know my motto: No leftover sees the light of day.

But enough about babies - at least the kind that actually come out of you.

Instead, let's talk about those fuzzy babies that never learn to talk.

Yeah, like that's a bad thing. If my dogs - you know, the Devil and her Helper

- ever gain the power of speech, I'll have to stop the car rides altogether. I

can just imagine what they'd yell out the car window at other dogs.

But now the furballs have some real competition in the Bad Behavior World

Series. Let me introduce to you this newest contestant, in the same way he was

introduced to us.

Picture this: New Year's Eve, about two minutes past midnight. There we were

on the couch, Cliffy and me, trying to keep our eyes open long enough to say

" Dick 's still alive? " and then crawl to bed. Yep, true party animals.

That's us.

Anyway, the ball dropped, we looked up from the couch, and there's our

brand-new kitten sitting in one of our planters. Staring right at us. Peeing.

Ladies and gentlemen, meet Stan the Cat.

A word of advice: Don't go to someone else's home and relieve yourself in one

of their houseplants. They're bound to take it the wrong way.

We certainly did. The worst part is, while we're yelling and throwing things

and running toward the planter, Stan just kept staring at us like we were

bothering him. He just flattened his scrappy, little ears and kept going, even

when Cliff grabbed him and hauled him off to the litter box.

You know, I once read a study that said housecats help lower people's stress

levels. Uh, yeah. That would be the people who don't actually own them, right?

Stan has since been introduced to that same litterbox on several occasions -

and every time, he gets this surprised, wide-eyed look, like he had no idea such

a place existed.

That same litterbox, however, has left an indelible mark on every other member

of the Cabral household.

It so happens I'm a big fan of " outdoor cats, " the kind that do their business

outside. As in, not inside. As in, not where I have to ever deal with it. But

Stan was such a cute, little baby when we got him this winter that we couldn't

bear the thought of sending him out in the cold. So, the litterbox entered our

lives. And the one animal that was supposed to use it couldn't be bothered.

The other pets, however, could hardly believe their good luck.

The dogs were thrilled to have their own poo-poo platter, as it were,

available to them on a 24-hour basis. Disgusting? Yes. Less disgusting than

anything else they do? Not so much.

And our big, old, 100-pound cat - that's Catzilla to you - has always had an

outside bathroom, much to her chagrin. For her, this litter box was nothing less

than a well-earned gift from the Cat Gods. That is, until she tried to use it.

See, we bought one of those boxes with the cover and the little door for the

cat to go through. Catzilla, it turns out, is not really built to go through

little doors, and proved this by getting herself stuck in said little door the

day it arrived.

Back end hanging out of the box, legs flailing, she tried desperately to

squeeze her ample belly through the Stan-sized opening. No luck there, but she

did manage to push herself and the box down the basement stairs in the process.

The good news is, Catzilla popped out on the first bounce, unharmed.

The bad news is, she's managed to convince Stan that the box is out to get

them both.

Next time, I'm getting a fish.

[Guest guest]

That is So funny.. and I can entirely identify with it!

Penny

Shrewsbury UK

Sounds like our house...

Meet Stan the Cat

Daisy Cabral

- So there's a new addition in the Cabral household. No, we didn't have a

baby. Let's face it, folks, if I was meant to breed, somebody would have

invented a self-cleaning baby by now. And if I'm going to be putting food in

someone's mouth in the middle of the night, you can pretty much bet it's going

to be mine. You know my motto: No leftover sees the light of day.

But enough about babies - at least the kind that actually come out of you.

Instead, let's talk about those fuzzy babies that never learn to talk.

Yeah, like that's a bad thing. If my dogs - you know, the Devil and her Helper

- ever gain the power of speech, I'll have to stop the car rides altogether. I

can just imagine what they'd yell out the car window at other dogs.

But now the furballs have some real competition in the Bad Behavior World

Series. Let me introduce to you this newest contestant, in the same way he was

introduced to us.

Picture this: New Year's Eve, about two minutes past midnight. There we were

on the couch, Cliffy and me, trying to keep our eyes open long enough to say

" Dick 's still alive? " and then crawl to bed. Yep, true party animals.

That's us.

Anyway, the ball dropped, we looked up from the couch, and there's our

brand-new kitten sitting in one of our planters. Staring right at us. Peeing.

Ladies and gentlemen, meet Stan the Cat.

A word of advice: Don't go to someone else's home and relieve yourself in one

of their houseplants. They're bound to take it the wrong way.

We certainly did. The worst part is, while we're yelling and throwing things

and running toward the planter, Stan just kept staring at us like we were

bothering him. He just flattened his scrappy, little ears and kept going, even

when Cliff grabbed him and hauled him off to the litter box.

You know, I once read a study that said housecats help lower people's stress

levels. Uh, yeah. That would be the people who don't actually own them, right?

Stan has since been introduced to that same litterbox on several occasions -

and every time, he gets this surprised, wide-eyed look, like he had no idea such

a place existed.

That same litterbox, however, has left an indelible mark on every other member

of the Cabral household.

It so happens I'm a big fan of " outdoor cats, " the kind that do their business

outside. As in, not inside. As in, not where I have to ever deal with it. But

Stan was such a cute, little baby when we got him this winter that we couldn't

bear the thought of sending him out in the cold. So, the litterbox entered our

lives. And the one animal that was supposed to use it couldn't be bothered.

The other pets, however, could hardly believe their good luck.

The dogs were thrilled to have their own poo-poo platter, as it were,

available to them on a 24-hour basis. Disgusting? Yes. Less disgusting than

anything else they do? Not so much.

And our big, old, 100-pound cat - that's Catzilla to you - has always had an

outside bathroom, much to her chagrin. For her, this litter box was nothing less

than a well-earned gift from the Cat Gods. That is, until she tried to use it.

See, we bought one of those boxes with the cover and the little door for the

cat to go through. Catzilla, it turns out, is not really built to go through

little doors, and proved this by getting herself stuck in said little door the

day it arrived.

Back end hanging out of the box, legs flailing, she tried desperately to

squeeze her ample belly through the Stan-sized opening. No luck there, but she

did manage to push herself and the box down the basement stairs in the process.

The good news is, Catzilla popped out on the first bounce, unharmed.

The bad news is, she's managed to convince Stan that the box is out to get

them both.

Next time, I'm getting a fish.

[Guest guest]

,

OMG! That was TOO funny! I was picturing every bit of this as I

was reading, and giggling away. And as a cat owner myself, I

totally understand. When I was reading the part about " Catzilla "

getting stuck in the litter box, it took me back to the time my cat

Shadow, who " rules " the house, got his head stuck in a Dorito " big

grab " bag. He loves Doritos, and was hoping to find some left in

there for him. He will also dip his paws in the water dish, and

shuffle them on the floor every time he gets a drink. We've dubbed

it the " Shadow Shuffle " . My other cat, Sammie, is the biggest baby

in the world, and hides her head in the crook of my arm like an

ostrich every time we visit the vet, and she always shoves cat food

under the dish after she's eaten, like she's trying to clean up

after herself, or hide her mess. It's hilarious how animals take on

such human-like personalities, and have little traits that are

particular only to them. Our cats are definitely members of the

family.

Thanks again for the giggle. I'm in a lot of pain, so I really

needed it.

Jen

[Guest guest]

,

OMG! That was TOO funny! I was picturing every bit of this as I

was reading, and giggling away. And as a cat owner myself, I

totally understand. When I was reading the part about " Catzilla "

getting stuck in the litter box, it took me back to the time my cat

Shadow, who " rules " the house, got his head stuck in a Dorito " big

grab " bag. He loves Doritos, and was hoping to find some left in

there for him. He will also dip his paws in the water dish, and

shuffle them on the floor every time he gets a drink. We've dubbed

it the " Shadow Shuffle " . My other cat, Sammie, is the biggest baby

in the world, and hides her head in the crook of my arm like an

ostrich every time we visit the vet, and she always shoves cat food

under the dish after she's eaten, like she's trying to clean up

after herself, or hide her mess. It's hilarious how animals take on

such human-like personalities, and have little traits that are

particular only to them. Our cats are definitely members of the

family.

Thanks again for the giggle. I'm in a lot of pain, so I really

needed it.

Jen