I've never been one of those people who thinks that cats are the nippy-brained, intellectual sharp-shooters of the animal world. Mostly because I grew up with them. I used to have a stand up routine about how we only think cats are cleverer than dogs because they bury their shit, whereas dogs leave it for others to clear up, which is clearly us misunderstanding on so many levels it's untrue. Now I have the pleasure of the company of a cat who doesn't even know how to do the turd-last-respects thing properly.
She belongs to the two lovely men who are letting me stay in their spare room while I sort out my life. She has company, in the form of an older cat, who gets how the shit/litter equation works out. She doesn't do the learning from example thing, though. The cats have an indoor lav - one of those roofed-in, luxury litter trays with a carry handle and a petite entry hatch. This morning, straight after I'd emptied out all the old litter, and replaced it with sparkly new, non-clumped, virgin fresh-from-the-bag litter, she went zipping in.
A minute later, I heard banging. Because she was leaning out of the entrance to her box of shame, pawing at the lid. Seemingly unaware of the pristine, untouched litter around her with which she might commit her shit to the earth, she was instead trying to pull the roof down onto it. Literally trying to make the world fall in around her, just because she'd had a dump.
Later on, I saw a Toyota Yaris to which its owner had attached toy furry reindeer antlers, which just goes to show that everything's relative.