Before the human goes out, she always tells me to ‘be good’. That means: don’t scratch the rugs, doona or furniture. I don’t want her to go, and will try and distract her with a game of chasey, or I’ll scratch the food cupboard door. After a treat or a sprint around the hallway and dining room, she leaves. I’ll then sharpen my claws on the rug.
Lately, I’m trying to ‘be good’, because the human has been in a fight or hurt herself somehow. She had one of her big mitts wrapped up in cloth and then later, the other one too. She had trouble leaning over to pat me and snoozes a lot. It’s hard to wake her in the mornings. The other day because she wouldn’t get up and open the back door, I had to do my business in the giant water bowl, where water falls from the wall. The human was surprised when she found ‘my gift’, and picked it up with a scooper, plopping it where she does her own business. That night, she left out a small tray with some litter—I’d rather go outside. In the morning I stepped into the tray and started kicking. Heaps of litter landed on the floor. The human wasn’t impressed.
Yesterday, a male human dug up a tree in the backyard, leaving heaps of freshly turned soil. ‘Purrfect!’ It’s a great spot to do my business. I’ve been back there a few times.