I have had pets before I adopted my three kittens. I am used to not being allowed to use the toilet by myself. Cats. Dogs. All feel they need to accompany me to the toilet. I have never been clear on why.
However before these three kittens, I accepted that. Before these three kittens, if I need to go to my bathroom for whatever reason, I just went. I very likely would have an entourage, but other than that, I just entered my bathroom to use the toilet, brush my teeth, take a shower, etc. Now entering my bathroom is a production. The cats have been banned from my bathroom. The door is kept shut at all times, and this makes it an entire production when I need to open the door to get in or out.
The cats have been banned from the bathroom mainly because of Orlando. I didn’t like it when they jumped to the bathroom counter, but I did’t get that annoyed. However, soon after Orlando got big enough to jump to the counter, he started turning everything into a toy. I went through three toothbrushes in a week because I kept finding them on the floor or in his mouth. The brush end was in his mouth. I moved the cup that holds the toothbrush to a shelf he couldn’t reach, and then he went after the flossers, which I keep in a cup besides the sink. I found flossers all over the house. Thus, they all lost bathroom entry privileges.
Now the problem is me getting in or out of the bathroom. Obviously because they can’t go in there anymore, it is now the most exciting room in the house. Orlando normally waits by the door, especially in the mornings when I am just getting out of bed or ready for work. I keep my phone in the bathroom at night, so it can recharge. I also use it as my alarm clock, and I need to have my alarm clock in a location that requires me to get out of bed, or I will simply turn it off and go back to sleep. Therefore, every morning, my alarm clock goes off, and Orlando sits and waits by the bathroom floor. It is dark, and I am drowsy and stiff. Inevitably, he will run inside, then I have get a hold of his squirmy self, snooze the alarm, and carry him back to bed. Then the routine is repeated when the alarm goes off again. Sometimes Rosalind joins in the fun, so I have to round up two squirmy cats who generally lie belly up to make picking them up all the more difficult. Oliver is the only somewhat well behaved cat.
Then when I am going into the bathroom to actually do something other than snooze my alarm, after they run in, I have to pick up the cat or cats, put them on the bed or the ground, then run back into the bathroom faster than them. Normally they are faster, so the entire routine starts anew. Generally it is easier for me to put them on the ground, while I am still in the bathroom with the door closed as much as possible, so I can quickly close the door between the cats and I. This still fails at times. Often three attempts are required for me to be in the bathroom by myself.
I have left Orlando in the bathroom after I snooze the alarm. I shut him in and go back to bed for five minutes because I hate mornings. By the time my alarm goes off again, and I enter the bathroom, Orlando is happily playing with a flosser.
All of this, so I can use the toilet or brush my hair. Life is rather complicated with cats.