I heard rustling as I worked in my studio. It was a sound I knew too well, one that usually always meant one thing – Cat Litter Grazer was at it again.
“Muddy! I know you’re over there, get out of there right now!” I say sternly, exasperated since I have reconfigured the set up of the litter box multiple times to dissuade the Cat Litter Grazer. He is addicted to cat litter, sprinkled with little morsels of sand that must give it the crunch of a toffee bar.
I heard his always happy foot steps bounce over to my desk area where I sat typing. Silence. He was now sitting, staring into my back, “I am innocent, why am I always proven guilty without trial?” he asks.
I turned to see his lovely brown face, cheerful, but with the evidence of his criminal activities speckled all over his nose.
I quietly reached for my camera – this was a photo op if there ever was one.
“Mud, I know you did it – admit it, you were litter grazing,” I said to him in my best calm but serious mother tone.
He put his head slightly down.
“Nu-uh, didn’t do it,” he said.