Today I was doing some housework, not my favourite job but it has to be done.
So there I was, sweeping the floor - tiles + longish hair + a cat = dust and detritus = sweeping.
While I'd been cleaning the Nu had been hanging around and staring at me, which normally means she needs to be either fed or walked out in the garden to show me where feline intruders have desecrated her territory.
Today however, she swept into the bathroom, sniffed the shower, stepped into it and........
.......had a wee!
Now I didn't mind this; it's logical for a cat; she knows what we do in there and the shower has a floor similar to her litter tray (it was outside being aired!)
No! What got me was when she stepped out of the shower looked at me and went 'pfffff' and walked downstairs, 30 seconds later I heard the cat flap clatter as she went outside.
Honestly, Maggie Smith in Downton Abbey couldn't have been more dismissive of domestic servants who weren't up to scratch.
We exist to serve.
