Hey, you know The Writer's sister?
Of course I know her! Patricia bought me from the toy store in Bristol, Virginia. Her grandmother gave her money and out of all the toys, Pat chose me. That was in 1955. A few years later The Writer found me stuffed in Pat's toy box--
I just asked if you knew her! Not a memoir! Sheesh!
[Black cloud of silence]
Oh, don't be mad. Listen, The Writer took a picture of the cat box her sister fixed for her cat George. It seems George decided to do his business in the TV room. The Writer's sister had conniption fits over this. For someone who has had cats all her life, this woman should know it's a cat's perogative to change toilet habits.
Still using the Word-a-Day toilet paper?
Yeah. Anyway, she finally broke down and put a litter tray in the TV room, but the sight of it offended her finer sensibilities. You know how The Writer has all these vintage suitcases all over the house?
They're all filled with books, magazines, DVDs, and photo albums. Don't even think about picking one up!
The Writer's sister has those old suitcases, too. So she put George's litter pan in a vintage suitcase! She can close the lid and not look at it. George goes in a vintage suitcase! Is that cool or what?
And now you want one.
The Writer can empty that nice British tan leather Samsonite for my litter box. It has a Lucite handle and is monogrammed.
Winchester, your "litter box" as you call it, is really a cement mixing pan. It's the only thing big enough for your--business. The Writer often wonders if a German shepherd got in your box by mistake.
That's not true!
Is too. So if The Writer wanted to disguise your cat box in a vintage suitcase, she'd need a steamer trunk.
[Black cloud of silence.]