I don’t know about you, but I value bathroom doors that work.  I avoid stall doors with broken locks, busted locks, no locks; I especially avoid the stalls at dive bars that are intended to provide covering only if you are actually sitting on the toilet and anyone else in the bathroom can easily look over the top and say “Can you spare a square?”.  I check the locks at my friends’ homes, my parents’ home, on airplanes (will it really alert others that it is “occupied”?).  For all of my due diligence, there is one place where the doors are giving me less and less protection: my home.  My bathroom door is getting old and loose, but fortunately it works in the sense that my husband knows that if the door is closed to not open it.  Easy-peasy.

Unless, of course, you have a door busting, bathmat loving 16 pound cat like Molly. Of late Molly has transitioned from her hiding-under-the-chair-and-attacking-our-unsuspecting-feet game to the SURPRISE!-It’s-Me! game (think of it as an advanced form of peek-a-boo).  These are the rules:

1. Wait until human wakes up and groggily lumbers into the bathroom.

2.  Be attuned to the sound of human settling in on toilet.

3.  At “appropriate” moment, put paws on door and push body weight forward smashing door open.

4.  Prance in purring and rub body against human’s legs.

5.  Settle onto to blue bathmat and roll on to back exposing buddha belly.

6.  Human swears, mumbles “I don’t join you in the litter box” and tosses Molly out of bathroom.

That has been the routine until today when we added a new rule:

7. Repeat.

While Molly has been diligent in providing a cure for my neuroses, I still prefer her scratching at the door, meowing patiently outside, sliding her paw under the edge, anything to politely let me know that she wants in.  And she will be let in.  When it’s her turn.

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2 thoughts on “Bathmat Molly

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