cat in the bathroom, why are cats so funny in the bathroomWe have two cats. One is small and cuddly, the other large and demanding of my attention. Many of the mysterious behaviors that plague felines psyches also infects our beasts, but one stands in my mind as unique to our brood.

Their love hate relationships with the bathroom.

Our cats decided long ago, perhaps at a secret meeting, that the bathroom is the place to be, especially when people are there. But they seem to not be wholly sold on this agreement. What I mean is that they are of two minds about the practice. On the one side they must honor the accord they obviously set forward to enter the bathroom, or demand to be let inside with a constant and heart breaking cry, whenever their people choose to use that room. They also despise being trapped inside. Yet, when you open the door they refuse to leave.

Closing the door does nothing to solve this bothersome contradiction for them, in that they will jump on the counter, and head butt the door handle, a clear indication to any sane individual that the animal would like to leave immediately. Alas, this could not be farther from the truth.

In fact, when you open the door to let them out, removing the door knob from the range of the cat’s noggin, he will sit on his haunches and look at you with bewilderment, as if you have just done the single most idiotic thing a person could do. Cats are singularly gifted with this look, and I believe, though I have no direct evidence to support such a claim, that they practice despising us at night. This explains their habit of sleeping throughout the day. There can be no other explanation to my mind.

After another mocking look, withering me to the core most effectively, I close the door again, only to watch the head butting resume in a manner that suggests, once again, that they wish to be let out. I choose not to fall for the now obvious ruse but my penalty is to watch the cat deform its head on the door. Since I know a lopsided head cat would displease my wife to no end, I quickly finish what I’m doing (the exact nature of such activities is none of your business) and leave the room. This frees the cat from its previously agreed upon bondage and all is harmonious in the house once again.

Whether it’s part of the cats’ devious ultimate plan, or just a natural consequence of close quarters, I have to say that despite the sudden bouts of insanity, these furry creatures grow on me. One day, I might even be called a cat person.

God forbid.