At 5:50am, I woke with a start. W was sat upright in bed, shooing the cat away, and cursing volubly.
“What’s up?”
“The cat just weed on the bednot too much harm was done.While W crashed around downstairs, a certain sleepy little girl wandered in, wobbled around in the doorway in her nightdress, cogs turning very slowly indeed, observed the empty bed, and then asked a question.
“When is Mummy coming home?”
After smiling at her as she rubbed her eyes, I explained that Mum was just downstairs, and to go back to bed - it wasn’t time to get up yet. She did exactly as ordered - bumping her way back into the darkness of her bedroom. I heard a whump as she collapsed back into her pillow.
W appeared a few moments later, still cursing audibly.
“Why did the bloody cat pick me!?”
A few moments thought revealed an answer that gave an insight into the evil and vindictive mind of even a 24 week old cat.
Last night W had mentioned that she needed to clean the cat litter tray out. The cats had obviously noticed she does it, and given that their toilet had become - how shall we put this - rather smelly - they chose to protest by way of example.
I guess this was the toilet protest version of the cat arranging a dead mouse for display purposes - intended to convey the threat they pose should they wish to turn on their human captors…