Ok, so here how it goes. I'm in a deep sleep, when all the sudden I think there's a prowler breaking into the condo. What's that scratching noise? Are the screens being stripped from the windows? Is someone trying to pick the lock?
Nope, it's our lovely Calico up in the loft, again digging her way to China, or at least out of Culver City. I can't figure out why she spends at least 12 minutes digging every time she's in the box. Is she trying to get a cat-a-cure? Maybe she figures if she digs for 20 minutes, her claws will be all trim and shiny, and she can be a paw model.
Our other two cats don't spend nearly as much time in the box. Sparky, our male cat does his business and leaves it on top of the litter for someone else to bury. Males. Go figure.
Our youngest, Holly, is very dainty when she's in the box, and she's in and out in a few minutes. She's very polite about it. She's the perfect child.
But Milly? Maybe she was in prison in another lifetime and used to work on a chain gang. Tirelessly she digs, and digs, and digs. Maybe she thinks there's a prize in the box, much like those found in Cracker Jacks.
I don't know. Do you?
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