maomao "jagar" part II

Yes, like all good movies, there must be a sequel right?

We received enquiries about yesterday's blog. And the answer is: No, the maoster does not do housecalls. He suggests you call your own machine repair man when your washer goes nutters. He wonders which cheapskate asked that question. XD

Today, we feature maomao doing what he likes doing best apart from eating, shitting and sleeping. He jagars this place with all the tenacity an ex-stray-tabby-neutered-now obnoxiously fat-feline would. It's his place of worship. His turf. His hood. Sometimes, the hubby and I even feel terribly guilty about invading his space!

If eyes could kill...

This... this IS maomao's turf. (complete with primitive bowl, rubber hose, cheap air freshener and all-time classic white loo roll)

Checking for signs of forced entry.

Perhaps checking if our dietary habits met with his approval.

This is the ground he worships. The air he breathes. The water I hope he doesn't drink from. The majestic looking toilet - all of 30 years old. The hubby's cousin once commented, "Vintage toilet!" The euphemism is great. It is vintage... complete with 30 years worth of vintage grime and scum. Maybe I am ignorant. I don't understand vintage like the maoster. He wants vintage so much, he almost gives you the dirty look when you are pooping in there! Believe you me, I would use another toilet, IF I had another one to go to in the first place! ack!

Come 22nd June, this vintage loo would become permanently vintage. (renovation begins! yipeeeee!) I hope the maoster takes it well. Meanwhile, I will not come between him and his turf unless I really have to. *tummy rumble*