Cats Are the World’s Worst Roommates

When you share your home with a cat, there are certain things you learn pretty quickly. Such as, say goodbye to privacy. Or be careful where you step because the cat will be underfoot attempting to trip you up when you least expect it (generally in the kitchen).

Living alone there’s really no point to closing doors–bathroom and bedroom. And with a cat, you close the door, be prepared to open it again at their demand or have them manage to open it themselves.

Since the weather’s turned cool, I’ve started shutting the bathroom door when I shower to keep the nice hot steam in. The cat is not a fan of this. Seven years into living together, I know it and she knows it and yet the dance resumes after every summer.

For the past week we’ve been doing the door dance. I shut the door, start up the shower, and just as the steam is building up really good…the temp drops because Ms. Skye has butted the door open to come inside and see what’s on the other side of the closed door. Well, there was steam. So, dripping, I reach out, shut the door. A short while later, the temp drops again and the steam escapes because Ms. Skye has pawed the door open.

This morning (Thursday, when I’m writing this), Ms. Skye decided to change things up a bit. I was maybe ⅔ through my shower when I feel the temp drop. I pull back the curtain to shut the door (since she usually comes in, jumps up on the sink, then jumps down again before going out), but the furball is sitting there in the door gap, just looking at me and daring me to shut the door. Jerk. I duck under the water, and when I look again, she’s gone, so I shut the door. Just as I’m wrapping up the shower and the steam has built to a comfortable steaminess again, door opens, temp drops, *thump*, cat settles on the sink. *sigh* I shut the door, finish my shower, turn the water off, grab my towel, and right after I finish drying my hair and getting the water out of my eyes Ms. Skye meows at me, all annoyed. Her, “Yo, I’m sitting here on the sink, turn the damn faucet on, I want a drink,” meow. Of course I turn the faucet on because she’s trained me well (although it’s totally my mother’s fault for starting the whole sink drinking thing).

Life with a cat. *shakes head*

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