Mammal Mondays: Leroy the Scapegoat

I owe Leroy an apology.

Over the last few months, basically since I had to turn the furnace on to ensure the survival of both me and the houseplants, I’ve come home from work or woken up in the morning to find a mess in the bathroom . Picture this on my beautiful panda black tiles: mounds of pristine white toilet paper. Picture this on my fancy toilet paper holder: nothing but a sad and empty cardboard tube. Again and again and again.

Although I never caught him at it, Leroy is the only animal loose in the house at night (when Sherm is asleep beside my bed and our bedroom door is closed) and during the work day, when Sherman snoozes in his kennel so he won’t eat the papasan chair or whatever tidbits are in the garbage cans. Leroy was truly the likely suspect as the great unraveller, particularly since he loves to chase and swat at anything that moves.

Time after time, I’ve awoken in the morning and walked into the bathroom, still bleary-eyed, knee-deep in a drift of toilet paper. I’ve come home from school at least a dozen times to find my little dollhouse bathroom redecorated, Halloween prank style. Try as I might, though, I have not been able to catch the frisky feline in the act.

As much as I know it’s contraindicated in training pets, I’ve hauled Leroy to the bathroom every time to scold him. I know it won’t do much so long after the crime has been committed, and frankly Leroy is too dumb to make the connection between cause and effect anyway, but wagging my finger makes me feel better. Leroy just looks at me quizzically, totally unable to understand why I’m using my “scary mama” voice. Poor guy.

Last week, though, the mystery of the traveling toilet tissue was revealed. There I was, lounging in the bathtub –please picture this with me enveloped in mounds of luxurious bubbles, tv commercial-style, for the sake of modesty– and the furnace kicked in. Suddenly, the toilet paper on the holder began to spin in the hot breeze from the vent. The paper unfurled in a continuous broad ribbon as the roll spun faster and faster. I watched in astonishment as the entire roll piled lazily on the floor until the final square came off the cardboard and drifted down to join its friends.

As usual, Leroy spent my tub time perched on the edge of the bathtub. No sooner had the paper all landed than Mr. Kitty turned to me and mewled indignantly.

I hereby apologize wholeheartedly to Leroy. He has been snuggled up against my leg the whole time I’ve worked on this post, so I think he’s forgiven me.

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4 Comments Add yours

  1. Seriously? The furnace was the culprit? That was a total surprise ending! Poor Leroy…
    I used to find stuff from the kitchen table on the floor, and blame Mrs. P.I.B. Once, I walked into the kitchen while our cat was sitting on the table, batting stuff off the side. Of course, Mrs. P.I.B. was just standing there watching, so she wasn’t completely blameless…

    1. I know! I couldn’t believe it was the furnace. The vent cover was off due to the never-ending renovation I’m buried under, so the hot air just blasted straight out the vent. The Electrician put the cover back on, and there haven’t been any more toilet paper piles, thankfully. I was getting tired of shaking the cat hairs off it and trying to roll it back up.

  2. FL Liz says:

    That’s great! I wouldn’t have thought of the vent either. Glad to hear Leroy doesn’t hold a grudge.

    1. Leroy doesn’t really remember an event after about six minutes at best, so I’m safe. : )

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