The cat shits every time I take a shower or bath.
I do not understand why he feels the need to visit his litterbox every time I bathe. Perhaps it makes him nervous to see me disappear behind the translucent curtain. A feline version of the great and powerful Oz and as such he pays tribute to me with his feces.
The first time I noticed this habit, I thought it was a fluke. My bad luck. After all, these types of things happen to me constantly. The empty roll of toilet paper. The 1/4th inch of creamer in the carton. Being constantly covered by rabbit and cat fur. All things which I think are left to the mothers and wives of the world. To restore the balance by throwing out the carton, by refilling the toilet paper, by using the last threadbare clean towel that has been left for us by our family.
I would dutifully step out of the shower, dripping wet, to clean the litterbox. Because showering with the humid aroma of cat shit is about as wonderful as an ingrown toenail. As in Not very. After flushing the toilet....and waiting the requisite amount of time before being able to step back into the shower since our pipes are old and the flush of the toilet has rendered the shower indescribably hot, I return to my ablutions.
This morning I thought I had outsmarted him. I waited until he USED the litterbox. I cleaned it out and then began to run my shower.
HAHAHAHAHA, I thought as I stood under the hot water. I outwitted you! I WIN!!!
And then I heard the tell tale signs of him getting into his litterbox. I peek out of the curtain. Where Loki, the trickster, stares back at me.