My cat was the only witness to a murder in a bathroom. Henceforth, he feels it is his loving animal duty to prevent that same kind of murder from happening to me. I don’t mean to be macabre, but that is really the only explanation that makes sense.
Simon is one of my beautiful adult black cats adopted from the Humane Society last year. He had been left on their front porch in a carrier with a note that read: “Friendly neighborhood cat. Keep carrier.”
Simon is many things, and he is friendly, to a degree, but there is no way he was just some ‘friendly’ neighborhood cat. He’s very skittish, and frightens at the least little noise. I don’t think this is the kind of cat that would just wander up to strangers. Actually, this is the kind of cat that hides until he’s certain it’s me that’s calling for him.
Simon really likes me, but not in that ‘clingy girlfriend’ kind of way; in a very protective “I’ll be here if you need me” kind of way. He never really wants to sit in my lap, but he’ll follow me from room to room and just ‘be there,’ like a furry bodyguard. When I watch TV, he’ll be on the back of the couch or the chair and at night, he’ll hop up in bed and sleep between me and the edge of the bed, I assume to be my first line of defense against intruders/murderers.
I often shower in the morning with the bathroom door open. I have found this to just be easier. I have also been trained to announce my shower time with a bellowed, “Bath time!” When no one appears, I feel this is a signal that I can enjoy some privacy and close the door. This is silly of me. Scratching begins nanoseconds later as pets seem to materialize from the very ether, only now with wounded hearts.
So I leave it open. The cats have always enjoyed either relaxing in front of the heater while I get ready, or sitting between the two shower curtains so they can feel the water, but not get wet. Henry and Willow actually enjoy lounging in the tub itself at any given moment that water is not actively occupying it.
At no other point in the day is he as distressed as at this moment. When I first endeavor to enter the shower, he races to the bathroom rug and smacks at my feet as I step over the edge of the tub, as if to prevent me from entering. When this fails, he stays seated on my bathroom rug, or perches like a buzzard on very edge of the bathroom sink, waiting for me to emerge, stress marks creasing his kitty face.
Our compromise is for me to keep the shower curtain partially open where he can check on me should he feel the need arise. If I decide to close the curtain completely, I can expect him to begin howling until I stick my head out and assure him I am indeed still alive or open the curtain.
If I sing in the shower, he freaks out, meowing and pacing. I’m not that bad at singing. Again, reassurances have to be made about my very aliveness. I think he assumes the loud noise is the soundtrack of the murder being completed.
Let me reemphasize. NONE Of my other pets are this bothered by shower time.
When I exit the shower, he fusses at me in full kitty voice until I’m completely clear of the obvious danger. I have to pet him extensively, murmuring reassurances. He then jumps in the tub to check for signs of lingering torture/ninja assassins.
Finally, when I pick up the hairdryer, his eyes dilate to black orbs and when it is switched on, he is finally spooked enough that he can no longer provide me with protection and darts spectacularly out of the room.
Someone was murdered in a shower a la Janet Leigh, and then dried off with a hairdryer.
And Simon witnessed the whole grisly scene.
awesome. I think you have come to the right conclusion. I SO wish they could verbally communicate with us. And not at all judging (me being a closet cat-lady) , but how many pets do you have?? and do they all get along, or just ‘tolerate’ each other?
I will have to post the ‘origin’ story on all of them sometime, but they are all rescue cats. I have two black males, Simon and Henry adopted from the Humane Society, one black and white female (Roxie) a friend found on the highway as a kitten, and a fourth brown and tan that I found on the side of my road last November (Willow). The incredible thing is even though none of them grew up together, they all get along as if they were raised together. It’s pretty phenomenal. 🙂
I love Simon!
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Thank you!! He’s the perfect neurotic cat for a neurotic girl. 😀