My Cat Hates Me

My cat is smart. A little too smart for his own good, it turns out. He’s figured out how to open cabinet doors.

For the most part, this is adorable. But there’s two sets of cabinets (under the two sinks in my apartment) that he definitely should not be getting into, due to their high content of cleaning-related chemicals.

He’s leaving the cabinets under the kitchen sink alone recently, but I had to prop a big heavy box of kitty litter in front of the cabinets under the bathroom sink to keep him from getting at the Formula 409.

So finally, I ordered some childproofing cabinet dealies, of the type my parents used to have when I was a kid.

I installed them this evening (PS? I LOVE my new power drill/screwdriver), and finally moved the big box of litter. So Chaplin, sensing an opening, tried to open the cabinets.

And tried. And tried. For almost ten minutes, he tried to find a way to squeeze his fat butt through the tiny space, all to no avail.

Then he turned to me, gave me a dirty look, and went back to sleep under the bed for the rest of the night.

Note: If you dont’ get the reference in the title, click here.

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