Flushing the Cat

The first joke I ever heard Ellen Degeneres say was

My cat scratched me today.

She hates getting her ears pierced.

So recently I had the absolutely absurd experience of flushing the cat down the toilet. Of course he didn't go all the way down, he's too big silly. This would seem a difficult thing to accomplish, but it was surprisingly easy.

My boy cat, Thomas, or boy usually, will only drink water from the bathroom tap. No dish or cup or silver saucer will tempt him. What this means to me is that EVERY time I am in the washroom, so is boy to beg for a drink. After all, he's not sure when I'll go to the bathroom again. He has a terrible memory, he's paranoid and he's incredibly vocal.

He's also a bit audibly and visually impaired when it comes to drinking the water. It's baffling since he can hear a tuna can openning from down the street but can't hear the water beside his ear. So the exchange between him and I, goes a little something like this:

Meow

It's on

Meow

It's on

Meeeoooowww

It's on moron

Meeoooowwwww

Then I push his little butt so the water hits his face

MEOW. Why'd you get me wet??

He then finally drinks but all the while has a keen eye on me in the case I might suddenly attack him while he's vulnerable. I've never attacked him before, but I guess you just never know.

On the day of the flushing, Tom was being particularly obnoxious. I had been cleaning the apt and therefore, in and out of the washroom. He was in there each and every time doing the same routine. Two short minutes after he had already satisfied his thirst, I had to pee. On the phone with my pal, I kept on with my conversation in the Lou. Tom began his pleas for H2O. I equate his requests to the "mom, mom, mom, mom" of a young child insensitive to whatever may be taking their mother's attention. And as a mother worn down but still unaffected by this tenacity, I too was able to ignore him.

I was also able to ignore Tom when he decided to take matters into his own paws, and find his own way to the sink. This was in lieu of waiting for me to lift him up.

Tom saw his opportunity. He managed to work his body behind me on the toilet seat, and was going to proceed to the sink. I, of course, was still concentrating on my phone call and not on Tom. Long story short, I got up, I flushed and I felt a searing pain in the back of my calf. With pants around my ankles and still on the phone I turn around in time to catch the funniest, and cruelest glimpse of poor Tom's little butt and tail, going with the flow of water, around and around and around the bowl. His head was that of a ballet dancer, holding it's position until the last moment and then turning to catch up to his body. Hilarious!!

After much laughter, assistance, water splashing and blue toilet water, Tom managed to fling himself from the clutches of death to the bathroom floor.

The remaining dilemma's:

1. How do I talk him into a bath now that he's traumatized and full o blue toilet water?

2. How do I ever get Tom to stop giving me the 'dirt eye'?

The other funny part of this scenario is that Tom isn't even my cat. I've been parenting him since his owner started home reno's. After the 'incident', the text message to his owner read, "Come get Tom. He's not safe here."

Disclaimer for the SPCA... "It was a genuine accident. The toilet seat is down at this very moment."