My husband had a book published with O Reilly and we were recently sent a box of them. I write “recently” but really that box arrived about a month ago, and like with most things we get in the mail, we left it in the middle of our foyer.
By now everyone has probably heard of Stuff Theory, wherein any new item that enters a house and ends up on the floor, couch, table, whatever and is subject to immediate feline ownership. This box was not any different from everything else. It wasn’t in that spot for five minutes before one of them claimed it as their own.
Naturally, given the pecking order here, Murray wins most of the time. He’s there roughly all day and night, getting up only to eat, drink or sit on my lap for a few scritches. But he always returns to the box.
Here’s the box:
What I can’t figure out is how the box caved in last night. It’s true. At some point in the middle of the night, Murray crushed the box.
Now, before everyone assumes that this was due to how fat he is, I am not sure that’s it. I actually think the box broke during a brawl between Murray and Tucker on who would sit on the box next. But Toby Joe thinks I’m in denial and that it’s due time to put Murray on a diet.
We put Schmitty on a diet once. It was miserable. He was miserable. We were miserable. The neighbors were miserable. I can’t imaging doing that again.
But worse? I know I have to get rid of this box as it’s collecting dust and obviously cats and I just can’t bring myself to do it.
Mihow 
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