Radar Love

Recently I’ve heard and read a variety of mothers of young children lamenting the fact that they are never alone in the bathroom. I don’t think there is a mother alive that cannot relate to having the pleasure of a tiny human keep them company while they do their business. Upon reflection, I’m fairly certain it was at least 10 years before my own mother, with four children and one bathroom, got to enjoy a bath without, at some point, a pair of big brown eyes staring at her from the seat of the toilet.

This morning, after reading one such blog post, I headed to the bathroom for a shower and realized that although my own child no longer follows me to the bathroom, I almost always have company. My potty stalker is a blue-eyed, long-tailed, pointy-eared kitty boy named Sam.

Several years ago my husband, daughter and I were enjoying a cool evening on the patio with a fire in the chiminea. Out of nowhere my husband declared to our daughter, “You know, Anna, if your mother were invisible we’d still be able to find her.” We followed his gaze to the patio door where three furry soldiers were standing at attention.

While all our cats have exhibited some sort of pussycat sonar, Sam takes it to a whole new level.

He follows me to the bathroom EVERY time I go in there, regardless of my trip’s purpose. He comes in under the guise of needing a drink of water from his glass on the vanity. Sometimes he drinks…sometimes he doesn’t, but Sammy always sticks around for the duration…usually standing very still and staring at the mirror. 

And it’s not just the bathroom.

Fur Face has some kind of freaky feline GPS going on.

I could go for hours having not seen kitty boy, but he suddenly and silently materializes whenever, and everytime, I do the following:

Get out of bed. (Bam! Sammy at the bedroom door.)

Sit down. (Poof! Sammy in my lap.)

Walk into the Kitchen. (Voilà! Sammy at my feet.)

Enter the backyard while he’s in the front yard. (Presto! Sammy at the back gate.)

It would not surprise me to discover some sort of clandestine Kitty Intelligence Agency feeding info into Sam’s ear via a well disguised ear piece as to my exact location anywhere on the planet.

Either that, or I’ve been chipped.