Our apartment in Queens had a constant drip in the bathtub. Sadly, it was something that couldn't be fixed unless Smeagol chose to have the pipes replaced entirely. (And we all know that wasn't happening.) Kittie seemed to be the only one who didn't mind. Day after day I'd find her in that tub, eyes closed, her little head directly under the faucet, fur drenched from the drip, drip, drip...
A seemingly harmless pastime, and yet as a mother I disapproved. The tub was perpetually moldy, and I didn't want her getting sick again. Furthermore, is there anything more unpleasant than having a wet cat jump onto your lap?
We had a real problem on our hands. Kittie was spending far too much time alone in the bathroom, getting golden showers from the faucet. It was almost...yucky.
I tried to get her to stop, but the problem was more serious than I'd initially suspected. You see, she was addicted to this drip. She was jonesing for this drip. My little baby was a user, a fiend, a junkie. She needed to stand underneath that drip, to hell with the consequences!
Of course, she's up to the same antics in our new apartment as well. Granted, there's no drip, but after Hubby or I take a shower, Kittie always makes a mad dash for the bathtub so she can saturate herself. And she's only getting worse. She demands to be with me at all times, especially when I enter the bathroom. A few days ago I was rinsing out my conditioner when I opened my eyes to see Kittie beneath me, in the shower!
It's no use trying to lock her out. The few times I've had the willpower to actually experiment with this, Kittie only meowed and scratched persistently at the door, which I found to be more than a little frightening.
What can I say? The girl needs treatment.










