Squirt

Grandma caught a kitten. She set a live trap out in the backyard and snagged a darling, little, Siamese kitty. It was little and perfect, unlike the five other kittens we caught about a month ago.

We didn't use a trap to catch those, though--I caught them using agility, patience, sneaky huntress skills, and my bare hands. They lived under Grandpa's shed, and in order to catch them, I had to lure them out with kitty chow, wait, wait, wait, and wait some more, then at the prime moment, swoop down and grab them up. By the fifth kitten, I was a champion kitty catcher.

They were also Siamese-looking cats, but splotchier. Some had white paws or white spots on their noses. Despite their flawed Siamese-ness, we loved them, Grandma and I. Grandpa didn't, but he didn't really have a say in the matter, especially when Grandma wanted to keep them in the bathroom. She even made him give every single kitten a shot and put eye drops in their eyes. He must really love Grandma a lot, because I know he doesn't love cats.

Grandma and I built a house for the kittens out of a giant cardboard box that we found in some body's dumpster. It was perfect for them.

We named them: Jolene, Evelyn, Darby, Tracy Potts, and Bruce. Bruce had a stubby tail and fell asleep whenever anyone held him. Grandma named Tracy Potts after a newscaster on the TV. Darby was feisty. Evelyn was pretty. Jolene was shy.

We had fun letting them crawl all over us and fall asleep in our arms, but soon Grandma realized that she didn't like changing their litter box twice a day. She made a sign: "Free Siamese Kittens" and put it in front of the house by the road. Within the next couple of days Jolene, Bruce, and the whole gang had new homes, Grandma was relieved of kitty-poo duty, and Grandpa was just relieved.

Then a few weeks later she caught this kitten in the trap. It's a little bigger than the others and friendlier too. I guess it must be easier to take care of, because she hasn't posted any "free kitten" signs yet.

It's living in the bathroom.

My first encounter with the creature was this past Sunday. I decided I needed to make a little trip home for the weekend. When I walked into the big familiar house, my first instinct was to hit up the bathroom and relieve myself after the drive.

I walked down the dark hall toward the bathroom, and was surprised to find the door closed--the door is never closed unless the bathroom is occupied, which I knew it wasn't, because Grandma and Grandpa were both taking their after-lunch naps, and I was the only other person there. Cautiously, I inched the door open. I could feel some sense of resistance, as if the door was pushing a fallen towel along the ground. Then I saw a little tail curl around the bottom of the door, followed by a dainty paw stretching up in the air.

Squeezing through the small opening, I stepped inside and took in the site. Litter box right next to the tub, cat food in the corner beneath the towels, kitty bedding fluffed up beneath the sink, and napping on the floor in front of the door, a little, blue-eyed, Siamese kitten gazing up at me curiously.

"Well, hello there..." I chuckled, and anxiously headed off to the other end of the bathroom. The toilet was set back in a corner, hidden from view of the kitten, which I was grateful for. Taking care of my own personal business, I lightly hummed a tune to myself, when suddenly a low, grinding vibration pulsed through the air. I looked around, puzzled. What in the world is that?

The cat playfully poked its head around the corner, purring up a storm. "Go away kitty. Do you mind?" No, it didn't. Not in the slightest. It sauntered on over to where I sat on my throne of glory and began to rub up against my bare legs, weaving in and out and around. I just pretended that this was perfectly normal and not awkward in any way.

After I'd had enough friendliness, I reached down and gently shoved the cat away from my legs. Following the gentle shove was a distinct, nasty squirting noise, just like the sound that a ketchup bottle makes when it's almost out. Looking down, I saw an oozy, dark brown stream of goo trailing behind the kitty on the floor in front of me.

"Sick!"

The poor beast had a terrible case of uncontrollable diarrhea.

"I don't really want to clean that up..."

While I stood at the sink washing my hands, I noticed a scraper-looking tool on the counter--diarrhea scraper, I thought to myself.

Taking extreme care to watch where I stepped, I evacuated the bathroom. I glanced one last time, before shutting the door, at the beautiful cat with diarrhea. "See ya soon little buddy pal..." I said, knowing that I'd be sharing my bathroom-time with it for the next two days.

When Grandma and Grandpa woke up from their naps, I told Grandma, "Grandma... You've got a cat living in your bathroom."

"Yes, I know. Isn't she a beautiful cat?" Grandma glowed with pride. "We caught it in a cage out in the backyard."

Grandpa remained silent, sitting in his big green chair, calmly reading something.

"Grandma... it's got diarrhea."

"Yes, we're treating it."

"How are you treating it?"

"With medicine!" She smiled and glance over at Grandpa. I glanced too. Grandpa raised an eyebrow and gave me the "I'm a doctor--not a veterinarian" look. I laughed.

Later that night, thoughts of how Grandpa must really love Grandma kept going through my head, as I stood over the sink and brushed my teeth, whilst the cat with diarrhea, who lives in the bathroom, rubbed against my legs--purr, squirt, purr, squirt, purr... squirt.