Monday, August 22, 2005

These Kittens

George and Gracie are doing very well--several hours of manic play followed by total collapse and sleep for several hours, then repeat.

Here's their quirk (all kittens have one, or several). It involves the litterbox, which is my "Job 1".

Nobel Prize? Unlikely. Pulitzer Prize? No. Scooping cat crap out of a litter box? I'm the man.

As I'm cleaning the litter box, the litter gets rustled around a bit. And I'm using these little plastic bags that allow you to scoop the poop, then flip the bag inside out, tie it in a know, and it's ready for disposal. The bags rustle, too.

As soon as I open up a bag, they come running, wild-eyed. I can barely get my hand in the litter box because they're trying to push me out of the way to get in there and crap. Five seconds after my hand is removed, one of them is already scratching the litter, and the other is waiting impatiently. They're like a couple of duffers on the first tee at St. Andrews who just can't wait to hit their drives.

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