The bathroom to our master bedroom has been claimed by Posy as her domain. It has a litterbox in it, a water dish, and a bathmat, which she thinks is a cat bed. Plum will visit it, but he won’t stay long, so it is really the one place in which she doesn’t have to worry about getting bothered by her purple brother. It also has a ceiling heater and a shower, the steam from which helps clear Posy’s mangled tiny sinuses. So whenever I use that bathroom, Posy is there, and I have become quite used to her furry little presence.
When I get ready in the morning, she almost always appears in or on the sink and talks to me a bit: a wee girlfriend helping with my makeup. I will warn you that if you use “her” bathroom, and sit on the toilet, she will probably jump up and try to curl in a circle on your lap—and I get that that is not everyone’s cup of tea, what with talons near the privates and whatnot. But look at this little powder room gargoyle! Is she not sociable? Don’t you wish you had one?
Posy thinking, why wouldn't anyone want me as a buddy?
Think carefully before you answer that, bitches!