Chip has declared himself Guardian of the Bathroom. Every night when I go upstairs for bed, he is in there. I walk in, he scoots out. OK, correction, I walk in and I boot him out. I really don’t want him sniffing at the edge of my underwear while I am seated, you know? If I let him stay, he thinks it’s primo opportunity to nuzzle me for head scratches. After a good panty sniffing first of course. So, I boot him out. And he sits quietly, but I am sure quite indignantly on the other side. As soon as I open the door, he scoots past my legs back to HIS throne either on the rug, or in the tub. Yes, in the tub. Yes, I may have once or twice been truly evil and turned the water on him. Not anymore though. It’s clearly his safe place. And he keeps it safe from spiders and bugs. I just wish he’d figure out how to clean the dang thing for me. THEN he would really be King of the Porcelin Throne!