Bobbi walks into the office this morning and looks over to see Slinky, the three-pound geriatricat, sitting in her litterbox, looking dejected.
"Oh, what's wrong, Slinky?"
"Performance anxiety," I supplied helpfully, "She just had her butt positioned in the litterbox, and she was kinda tentative about the whole peeing thing to begin with..."
"So she's just waiting in there 'til the feeling comes again?"
"Yup, pretty much. Do you know, it's sad that I've become a leading authority on your cat peeing. I've watched her so many times in the past two years to make sure she didn't pee over the edge, I could write a book: On The Micturitions of Slinky."