Moms can often be heard lamenting about never getting a moment. You’ve all heard the mom pointing out that she cannot even use the facilities alone. There is always some interruption or another.
As mom to but one pretty self sufficient seven year old, gone should be the days when I can’t get a moment’s peace.
Except for that fuzzy, no teethed, always hungry, always thirsty, always wanting attention fur child of mine.
As soon as my foot hits the bottom step, she comes running from whichever box she has recently applied the “if I fits, I sits” principle. She weaves herself between my legs, around my legs, and under my feet, racing me to the top and into the bathroom.
She flies in and launches herself into the sink to immediately start arching her back and attempting to meow. She’s always been an underachiever in that department. If you don’t turn on the faucet, she starts knocking over anything and everything that was accidentally left on the edge. Not to be malicious, but because she stalks back and forth and something has to give.
If I by chance make it before her, she will eventually appear out of seemingly thin air. I’ll first hear her soft knock on the door. No joke, she keeps her claws in and just bats at it very politely. If she is ignored then her arms grow about a foot and I’ll suddenly feel fuzzy paws prodding my foot from under the door. Never will the claws come out. She really is nice that way.
We have more than one abode in our house so I could escape the fur demon if I really wanted to. But the basement bathroom could be the subject of a whole other slice and is to be avoided at all costs.
So, it’s the fur beast and I, till the end of time.