It's where they poop

We went on vacation the last week and we were going to get my friend
who lives across the street to cat sit, but she has been sick and
couldn't do it. So Dylan asked one of his co workers who lives in the
same building and she said she would.

Oh dear. Ratha moved to Canada from Sri Lanka last year and no sooner
did she come in than I realized she has probably never cared for a
cat. She is looking at them like they are weird, weird creatures, and
not making any move to get too close to them. The cats, of course,
are looking at her in /exactly/ the same way ("why is this freaky lady
here? She doesn't impress me much!").

So we show Ratha where the food and dishes are and then comes the
litter box.

Dylan: "And here is one of the litter boxes. We have four."
Ratha: "This is where...they sleep?"

What do you say to that?

Silence. Finally, Dylan manages, "No, that's where they, uh, poop."

Ratha nods seriously and repeats. "They poop." She thinks about
that. "Then what do I do?"

Dylan demonstrates how one cleans a litter box.

I try not to bust out laughing. I mostly succeed.

I take comfort in the fact that Ratha is a doctor and can't be that
afraid of a little poop.

Anyway, the cats were fine while we were gone but oh my....

--Fil

"Enfilade" wrote in message
...
We went on vacation the last week and we were going to get my friend
who lives across the street to cat sit, but she has been sick and
couldn't do it. So Dylan asked one of his co workers who lives in the
same building and she said she would.

Oh dear. Ratha moved to Canada from Sri Lanka last year and no sooner
did she come in than I realized she has probably never cared for a
cat. She is looking at them like they are weird, weird creatures, and
not making any move to get too close to them. The cats, of course,
are looking at her in /exactly/ the same way ("why is this freaky lady
here? She doesn't impress me much!").

So we show Ratha where the food and dishes are and then comes the
litter box.

Dylan: "And here is one of the litter boxes. We have four."
Ratha: "This is where...they sleep?"

What do you say to that?

Silence. Finally, Dylan manages, "No, that's where they, uh, poop."

Ratha nods seriously and repeats. "They poop." She thinks about
that. "Then what do I do?"

Dylan demonstrates how one cleans a litter box.

I try not to bust out laughing. I mostly succeed.

I take comfort in the fact that Ratha is a doctor and can't be that
afraid of a little poop.

Anyway, the cats were fine while we were gone but oh my....


That's always a bit of a turn, isn't it? Last summer I had a computer tech
in, and he seemed absolutely terrified of the cats. Dante always runs away
when someone first comes in, but if they're quiet, he quickly comes by to
investigate. Stinky is of course, the Official Greeter. So the guy's
working away, and all of a sudden he stands up. I swear, he almost goes up
on the chair. "Um . Erm" He says. "What's the matter?" "Um. Erm," he
says, looking at Stinky as if the cat was wearing a little explosives belt
"What does that cat *want*?"

Oh my indeed.

Kreisleriana wrote:
"Enfilade" wrote in message
...
We went on vacation the last week and we were going to get my friend
who lives across the street to cat sit, but she has been sick and
couldn't do it. So Dylan asked one of his co workers who lives in the
same building and she said she would.

Oh dear. Ratha moved to Canada from Sri Lanka last year and no sooner
did she come in than I realized she has probably never cared for a
cat. She is looking at them like they are weird, weird creatures, and
not making any move to get too close to them. The cats, of course,
are looking at her in /exactly/ the same way ("why is this freaky lady
here? She doesn't impress me much!").

So we show Ratha where the food and dishes are and then comes the
litter box.

Dylan: "And here is one of the litter boxes. We have four."
Ratha: "This is where...they sleep?"

What do you say to that?

Silence. Finally, Dylan manages, "No, that's where they, uh, poop."

Ratha nods seriously and repeats. "They poop." She thinks about
that. "Then what do I do?"

Dylan demonstrates how one cleans a litter box.

I try not to bust out laughing. I mostly succeed.

I take comfort in the fact that Ratha is a doctor and can't be that
afraid of a little poop.

Anyway, the cats were fine while we were gone but oh my....


That's always a bit of a turn, isn't it? Last summer I had a computer tech
in, and he seemed absolutely terrified of the cats. Dante always runs away
when someone first comes in, but if they're quiet, he quickly comes by to
investigate. Stinky is of course, the Official Greeter. So the guy's
working away, and all of a sudden he stands up. I swear, he almost goes up
on the chair. "Um . Erm" He says. "What's the matter?" "Um. Erm," he
says, looking at Stinky as if the cat was wearing a little explosives belt
"What does that cat *want*?"


In my final year at college I took a room at house owned by two Siamese
who would "vet" any prospective tenants that their human slaves might be
considering. No problem for me, I passed with flying colours, when I
moved in they went through my stuff like a pair of German customs
inspectors. They warmed to me though and they particularly liked my
electric blanket. I'd turn it on when I went to the pub, when I got home
I'd almost always find two rather smug looking Siamese (is there any
other kind :-) curled on the blanket. I only got the room because they
drove the previous tenant off, he didn't get cats and they made his life
hell, finally getting their message across by biting him :-)


--
Nik Simpson

On Feb 7, 6:00*pm, Enfilade wrote:


Dylan: *"And here is one of the litter boxes. *We have four."
Ratha: *"This is where...they sleep?"

What do you say to that?

I've had two people ask if the litter tray was their food dish. One of
them, an occupational therapist seemed stunned that we put the cats
toilet in the bathroom and their food and water in the kitchen! I did
say "Well you wouldn't want to eat in the bathroom would you?"

Lesley

Slave of the Fabulous Furballs

Kreisleriana wrote:


That's always a bit of a turn, isn't it? Last summer I had a computer tech
in, and he seemed absolutely terrified of the cats. Dante always runs away
when someone first comes in, but if they're quiet, he quickly comes by to
investigate. Stinky is of course, the Official Greeter. So the guy's
working away, and all of a sudden he stands up. I swear, he almost goes up
on the chair. "Um . Erm" He says. "What's the matter?" "Um. Erm," he
says, looking at Stinky as if the cat was wearing a little explosives belt
"What does that cat *want*?"

Oh my indeed.

In conformity with Murphy's Law, most repair people who
appear here are allergic to cats! They don't SAY anything,
but the sneezing and teary eyes are a dead give-away - I've
learned to keep a box of tissues handy. (The one I felt
sorriest for was the moving man who carried in a well
be-furred cat tower, asking - in the midst of his sneezes -
"Where do you want this?") Those who aren't allergic
generally enjoy the friendly curiosity my cats show them.
They especially like Melisande, whose fur is exceptionally
soft, and who begs to be petted by any available hand.

Lesley wrote:

On Feb 7, 6:00 pm, Enfilade wrote:


Dylan: "And here is one of the litter boxes. We have four."
Ratha: "This is where...they sleep?"

What do you say to that?


I've had two people ask if the litter tray was their food dish. One of
them, an occupational therapist seemed stunned that we put the cats
toilet in the bathroom and their food and water in the kitchen! I did
say "Well you wouldn't want to eat in the bathroom would you?"

LOL! You remind me of a lady at an Overeaters Anonymous
meeting, who confessed to buying a half-gallon of ice-cream
and scarfing it down in a stall in the store's ladies room!
I can relate to compulsive eating, but I'm thankful mine
only occurs in appropriate places. (I may eat ice-cream
directly from the carton sometimes, but I can at least wait
until I'm in my own kitchen.)

Last summer I had a computer tech in, and he seemed absolutely
terrified of the cats. Dante always runs away when someone
first comes in, but if they're quiet, he quickly comes by to
investigate. Stinky is of course, the Official Greeter. So
the guy's working away, and all of a sudden he stands up. I
swear, he almost goes up on the chair. "Um . Erm" He says.
"What's the matter?" "Um. Erm," he says, looking at Stinky as
if the cat was wearing a little explosives belt "What does that
cat *want*?"

Cue thunderous organ music and cavernous reverb on the voice...

"...YOU..."

==== j a c k at c a m p i n . m e . u k === http://www.campin.me.uk ====
Jack Campin, 11 Third St, Newtongrange EH22 4PU, Scotland == mob 07800 739 557
CD-ROMs and free stuff: Scottish music, food intolerance, and Mac logic fonts

On Feb 8, 9:27*am, "EvelynVogtGamble(Divamanque)"
wrote:

In conformity with Murphy's Law, most repair people who
appear here are allergic to cats!

Or terrified of them- when The Fabulous Furballs were about 7 months
old we had workmen in to put in a new central heating system. Most of
them liked the cats and Dunzi liked their bacon rolls (as I've said
before for some reason the bacon rolls from the cafe over the road
were a much prized delicacy when she was getting them from the workmen
but if we eat them she shows no interest at all) but we once had a
strapping almost 7 foot tall carpenter who ended up backed into the
corner, ash white and gasping "It's coming towards me!"

"It" was Dunzi who must have weighed the best part of 3 pounds at the
time and just wanted the new "friend" to stroke her

We were good and managed not to laugh until he left the room

Lesley

Slave of the Fabulous Furballs

Lesley wrote:

an occupational therapist seemed stunned that we put the cats
toilet in the bathroom and their food and water in the kitchen!

That's pretty weird! I mean, you could put these things in different
places if you wanted to, but is there something shocking about having
a cat's toilet in the same room as yours, and the cat's food area
being in the same area as yours??

Joyce

--
To send email to this address, remove the triple-X from my user name.

Jack Campin - bogus address wrote:

the guy's working away, and all of a sudden he stands up. I
swear, he almost goes up on the chair. "Um . Erm" He says.
"What's the matter?" "Um. Erm," he says, looking at Stinky as
if the cat was wearing a little explosives belt "What does that
cat *want*?"

Cue thunderous organ music and cavernous reverb on the voice...

"...YOU..."

When the human brings in the steak sauce, that's the time to get worried.

I remember hearing another story about a person who was afraid of cats,
who also asked, "What does that cat want?" Was that posted here?

It's a funny question. I mean, if I had a cat phobia, I might say something
like, "Don't let it touch me," or "Do you think it's going to bite me?"
or "I'm really scared of cats, could you shut him out of the room, please?"
etc. I don't think I'd be concerned with what the cat *wants*.

It's just an odd thing to wonder about, as though the cat were plotting
the person's demise or something. Even if I had a cat phobia, I think I'd
be rational enough to remember that cats don't do this! (LOL, is that a
straight-line or what?? )

Joyce

--
To send email to this address, remove the triple-X from my user name.