Get Away From My Litterbox, I Need Privacy!
Dude. Put the top back on my litterbox and go away! I have some excrementory functions to attend to and you know I don’t like you hovering in the vicinity while I’m taking care of business.
I’m serious! Get out!
How would you like it if I could hear you straining over the sand or burying your biz? I can’t even go number one unless I know I’m by myself! You need to make like a tree and go into another room or I’m gonna make this whole place my personal litter box. Go on! Shoo!
Do they not teach basic manners to humans anymore?
How Dare You Use The Bathroom Without Me?
Dude. I’m hurt. Betrayed. I can’t believe you went to the bathroom without me and I had to stand outside, crying and scratching the door for 30 seconds until you let me in.
You know this is a group activity. It always has been. You sit on the throne and I watch you, occasionally interjecting with a meow.
Oh, privacy schmivacy! You poop, I poop, we all poop. What’s a little poop between friends?
No! Put down the newspaper! Put down the phone! You’re being rude. Hasn’t anyone ever told you not to bury your face in your phone while you’re at the dinner table or on the toilet? It’s antisocial. Now I have yet to hear a good explanation for why you went in here without me in the first place … Do we need to have another talk about closed doors again?
Point-Counterpoint presents two essays taking opposing positions on a topic. Join us next week, when Buddy the Cat will debate Buddy the Cat on another important topic.