I was sitting on the edge of the bed this morning, too (fucking) early in the morning. We were discussing the disestablishmentarinaism of certain foreign countries - the usual around 5:30 in the morning in this household - when I saw Linus walk out of the bathroom. He was looking very smug, and coming twards us in that jungle-cat way he has about him after he lays out a particularly satisfying turd.
"Are you sure you're satisfied?" I asked the cat.
He replied, "Hmm, now that you mention it, there might be a thing or two I could improve upon."
He proceeded to turn completely around, and walk back into the bathroom to finish off his business. I know what he was doing, because we hear him scratching around with his kitty litter all night long and think it's zombies coming for our brains (or maybe that's just me). But in reality, it's simply Linus saying, "You know? You might be right. Perhaps that particular clump of urine could use a little sprucing up."
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Our LitterMaid is in the guest bathroom so that we don't have to hear the "scratchy, scratchy" of Lance and Nimue all night. Boy can they both crap. Gross.
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