Waiting for Bobby to finish doing his spray thing against the blue plastic tarp that covers the porcelain tile we bought for the floor remodel over a decade ago (still have the living room and office to do).
Bobby sprays high. He's a short cat and easily doubles his height in that urine stream. Just in case any other cats or predators come by, they'll be intimidated by how tall that cat was that left that calling card.
I was holding a frozen bag of chicken in my hands (I boil chicken and give it to the special cats; Jackie, who has no teeth and I keep trying to put metronidazole in it and Georgie, who is twenty years old and loves chicken). Since Bobby (and his urine stream) was in my path, I stopped and waited until he was finished (I'll yell in the house, but not in the garage - and honestly, we've had so many cats with urinary problems, I welcome a strong spray and the garage is an easy clean).
Sagwa, who has been incredibly needy this morning, wanting to be held and attention given, did not wait.
He ran into the house shaking his head. I pretty sure he got a little of that golden shower. I started laughing. Brian asked why, I told him. Sagwa ran over to Brian to be picked up and Brian did, then remembered the pee. He put him on the floor and told him to go clean himself.
Cats. Gotta love em.
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