Tag Archives: toilet

A Step Behind


Hogging the heater.

It was late and a winter’s night. As usual, Smudge lay sprawled across his rug hogging the heater, while from the couch my snores accompanied T.V. sounds. Suddenly, a thumping noise work me up.

Smudge must have gone to his water bowl, and now limped towards me, his right, front paw curled under. He tried extending his paw again, but quickly retracted it, dropping to his belly. I rushed to his side. Minutes later, he hadn’t advanced further. Smudge didn’t appear to be in constant pain, so I lifted him onto the couch and hoped that he would be okay.

The next day he was walking, but didn’t jump up on anything. I took Smudge to the vet who coaxed him out of the carrier with a few liver treats. The vet found that the big mog couldn’t move his right shoulder as high as the left one, then miraculously he could. Possibly, he had slept on his paw.

Back in the carrier, I lugged the fluff-ball to the car. ‘Expensive treats!’ I exclaimed.


Photo shy, and a floppy belly.

Three days later he’s leaping like an acrobat and been snuggling on the bed. Smudge is now sprinting down the hallway as we play hide and seek. Recently, there was another toilet incident—a trail of droppings inside—even though the back door was open. See ‘Holding On’, February, 2017. Smudge’s excuse:  It was a frosty morning.

At almost 15, Smudge’s attitude and good looks defies his age, although his belly hangs low.


Holding On


What? I didn’t do anything.

One thing Smudge and I both agree on, is that he does his business outside. When away for a night, coming home to a load of his droppings—not to mention the smell—and litter strewn two metres away from the tray, is not ideal.

A mobile vet suggested I reduce the amount of litter—which I did—however, I am still cleaning-up after Smudge. The big mog can’t resist sending granules flying with his ninja moves.

Sometimes I won’t get up after being tortured, or I may sleep in, and having tradesmen around also deters Smudge from going outside. Later, I’ll find a surprise in the shower or dining room.


The offending end.

I left home early and returned at lunchtime, when a worker arrived to discuss a job. From the dining room corner Smudge made strange chirping sounds and started to circle, then scratch the floor. Realising what was about to happen, I rushed over pushing a dining chair out of the way and grabbed Smudge around the belly. His body flopped in my hands leaving all paws dangling. As I sprinted toward the backdoor and turfed him outside,  droppings plopped onto the floor leaving a trail.

Earlier, Smudge didn’t go outside, but chose to snooze instead. He always scoffs the expensive, dry food I give him, and enjoys a little bit of wet food too. His droppings were solid, easy to pick-up with a paper towel and flush down the toilet.

The Human.

Big Mitts and Business Spots

Me waiting to go outside.

Me waiting to go outside.










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.

Lots of space to do my business.

Lots of space to do my business.








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.