In his hands sat a tiny Abyssinian As he stood at his live-in lover's door He said "I'm keeping it. Let's call it Gilligan." And he handed her the cat and he said nothing more And she thought, "Oh God, a cat. I hate cats And this one he's calling Gilligan, how disgustingly cute I'd like to send him nad his little buddy Gilligan On a three hour tour." He said, "I'll take full responsibility I'll even feed it everyday." "Cats" he said "are independent creatures." But she wound up caring for the damn thing anyway But she will not clean the litter box She won't go near it at all And she doesn't like animals that try to scratch her eyes out And she doesn't deal with fur balls And the litter box sits And the litter box sits And the little cat...sits in the litter box One day, the whole thing grew too much for her It was a hot and humid August day She approached the litter box with a great deal of trepidation (and a can of Lysol) Looked at it and said "no way" But she will not clean the litter box She won't go near it at all And she doesn't like animals that try to scratch her eyes out And she doesn't deal with those pesky fur balls And the litter box sits And the litter box sits And the little cat...sh*ts (Okay, I said it, are you happy now?) One day she came home from the office To find a cold and empty flat He took the TV, the furniture, the stereo they bought together The microwave and the cat But he left her the litter box And to this day it's still lying there It serves as a monument to their relationship It's an appropriate souvenir And the litter box sits And the litter box sits And the litter box sits