And yes, I’m talking about my cats. Would a human child systematically pry open my lingerie drawer and pull out my bras and assorted frilly undergarments and drag them around the house?
But would this same child also … well, I’m getting ahead of myself.
While at work on Thursday I kept smelling the sadly familiar smell of cat whiz. I checked my jeans, shirt and shoes, all of which came up clean. The same thing happened Friday morning and I did the same check, just in case I missed something Thursday. Again, couldn’t find a source.
Great. Instead of hearing voices, I’m smelling phantom pee.
I had a yoga class Friday at noon. No cat pee smell during class. When I changed back into my street clothes, however, I noticed a suspicious odor wafting from my bra (the same one I wore the day before) and took a good whiff. Yup, one of my vile little felines had marked my bra.
Still not as horrible as the Russian Pee Cookie tale of terror, but I’m here to tell you if they weren’t so damn cute and affectionate…
Buying deadbolts for my dresser drawers.