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#1
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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 |
#2
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It's where they poop
"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. |
#3
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It's where they poop
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 |
#4
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It's where they poop
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 |
#5
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It's where they poop
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. |
#6
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It's where they poop
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.) |
#7
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It's where they poop
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 |
#8
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It's where they poop
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 |
#9
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It's where they poop
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. |
#10
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It's where they poop
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. |
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