Fun fact: Cats instinctively cover their waste in the litter box to prevent predators from figuring out where they live.
I was in the back of the house folding laundry when I heard some tinkling noises in the big bathroom down the hall. As a mother, I knew where my kids were, and as a wife I knew where my husband was. And I knew they weren’t home. Immediately, and with great apprehension, I peeked in the door. It was Nip, squatting on the toilet with his back to the door. I don’t remember what I said or what noise I made, but I do remember Nip turned his head toward me, gave me his best look of aggravation, jumped down and ran out of the bathroom.
Of course, I wanted to talk to him about it, but he would have none of that. He meowed at the back door, so I let him out. But I wanted to know how he knew the toilet was the place to pee. He was in the bathroom a lot with me (mothers never go to the bathroom without someone hanging around), but I never told him what I was doing. And even if he heard the sound of tinkling water, how did he grasp what it was and why I was doing it?
I would have thought that training a cat to use the toilet would at least require a discussion on the merits of such behavior. And, as all cat-lovers know, training a cat is usually futile. They end up training you to give them treats for minimal exertion on their part.
I remember one night when my husband David was calling Nip in for the night. I could hear him cajoling Nip with treats, a new toy mouse filled with catnip, and all manner of things. Nip just sat there on the other side of the driveway and stared at him. It was as if he had suddenly forgotten how to get from there to the back door.
Next thing I knew, David had gone out there, picked him up, and brought him into the house.
“You know you’re going to be doing that from now on, don’t you?” I asked.
“Not after just one time,” David said confidently.
I never said “I told you so,” but the cold, hard fact is that Nip never came to the door at bedtime again. He was instantly trained to wait for somebody to come and get him.
But I digress. Back to the toilet. Nip continued to use the toilet from then on, but he hated to be interrupted and would quickly jump down. I wanted to get a picture, so I would look for my camera when I heard him in there. It would have to be a quick shot, but I was determined to get at least one good picture.
Finally, I had to put my camera in the bathroom and leave it there. And it still took — no kidding — about a year before I finally got the shots I wanted. I got lucky — you can see the stream. Proof positive finally captured by my camera!
I had to have extras made. My mother framed one and showed it to everybody who came to her house for any reason. She called Nip her “grandcat.”
I really miss old Nip. We’ve had a parade of cats over the years, but Nip was one of my favorites. He was sweet, loving, and smart. He loved to be kissed on the top of his head, which happens to be my favorite place to kiss a cat. He loved to sit in my lap, purring to beat the band. And, unlike the two human males living in the household, he never dribbled on the toilet seat.
You just can’t ask for more than that from a cat, can you?
~Carol Weeks
