A cat taking over one's recently vacated-and-still-warm seat is nothing new
and no surprise.

This morning, however, I did get a surprise.

I was being sluggish; for a kind of gray and cold Sunday morning, I was
taking my time getting myself "together." I did manage to get Ketzl's food
into his dishes, both kibble and wet.

But then I kind of faded out on the sofa for a bit, still in my robe. After a
few bites, Ketzl came into the living room and got a little "winjy": mewling
a bit and looking wistfully at the door to the terrace. That usually means he
wants to go out, so I got up, opened the door and went back to the sofa.

He winjed a bit more, and again looked at the terrace door, now open.

"Oh!" I said. "Sorry! I forgot to clean out the litter box... I'll get RIGHT
ON THAT!"

As I said, it was quite cold, so I had to throw on enough clothes to venture
outside to clean the box. All this time, Ketzl waited patiently on the floor
by the sofa.

I went out, shivering, cleaned out the box, raked it nice and neat, all the
while thinking how he has really got me well trained and what kind of sucker
am I, etc. I came back inside and announced that the box was now clean and he
could go out and use it.

He was, by then, sprawled comfortably on the sofa where I had been sitting.
He didn't get up. He didn't go out. You might say he killed two birds with
one stone. Or meow.

I sat elsewhere.

And I swear he was snickering.