Poor Kitty

Well I'm a bad bad mommy.

This morning we are having a delicious and intense thunderstorm. I love thunder. There is nothing I'd rather do than curl up on the couch with a book and a thunderstorm.

So I'm coming out of the bedroom after having gotten dressed and Joe dashes in and heads straight for my closet. "Noooooo kitty! Not the fuck in MY CLOSET!!" I chase him out of my room and pick him up to take him outside for potty call. Special note: cats do not like to go out in the rain. They will root their front feet to the floor and you can make a complete vertical cat by trying to make them go out in the rain. I get him out by reversing him butt-out and he doesn't want his nose shut in the door so he pulls back and I shut the door.

I wait an interval that I think is suitable for peeing and/or pooping. I open the front door and he isn't there. Success? I then hear him yowling at the back door and let him in.

There is nothing more comical than a wet cat.

Just to make sure, I shut him in the bathroom with the litter box for a few minutes. He does not like this. Once I think the paint on the inside of the bathroom door is probably worn off from his scratching, I open the door. He comes out and I pet him for a minute. Then a loud and close thunderclap sounds and he darts into my room.

OMG!! HE IS GOING INTO MY CLOSET TO HIDE FROM THE THUNDER!

In fact, he's in there now. And I'm out here feeling guilty.