Oh! Hello! Is it the weekend already? Let me put some coffee on. I honestly don’t know where the time goes. Do you remember how slowly time passed when you were a kid? It took 29 years for Christmas to arrive. Now, it comes every 3 months. The only place time ceases to move is in the Doctor’s Office, in a Traffic Jam or at the Passport Office.
Anyway, I’ve got bigger fish to fry today. It’s called Litter and it’s the bane of my existence. Who invented this crap? Oh sure, it clumps around cat pee and poo so it’s easy to scoop, but it spreads through the house like a disease. We’ve put men in space but can’t invent a decent litter? My vacuum never sees the inside of the closet anymore.
I made matters infinitely worse when I went to buy more litter and there on the shelf was something called Litter Lite and it practically floated into my cart. I’m accustomed to wrestling a 50 pound bag in which cursing, sweating and grunting are inevitably involved. And usually a small crowd gathers at each end of the aisle to watch the show. Litter Lite was a dream to get in the cart by comparison. I waved at the bystanders and said “No show today, folks!”
However, here are the problems with Litter Lite: it’s easier to dig in and it clings to the fur on the bottom of their feet in spite of having 3 large Litter Pads that are supposed to stop Litter spread. I have carpeted the entire laundry room with those pads (which cost a fortune!) and there is still litter all over the house!
Then The Viking made the mistake of putting too much litter in the box so the litter was almost level with the flap door. And it turns out that both cats are like ground hogs digging new burrows when it comes to burying their poo. Litter shoots through that flappy door at the velocity of sandblasters. We had discussions with both Teddy and Izzie, clustered around the litter box for demonstrations of proper digging techniques that limit the amount of collateral litter spillage, but it’s like they couldn’t care less about technique.
And then catastrophe happened.
I went into the laundry room to load the washing machine and there, laying on a Litter Pad was a turd. It’s was sprinkled lightly with litter but it was definitely a turd.
“FOR FUCK’S SAKE!!” I shoved the clothes into the machine. “WHO FLUNG POO?!!” The sound of 8 little feet and two big feet galloped down the hallway. Teddy, Izzie and The Viking clustered around the doorway, all of them with the same wide-eyed, innocent expressions.
“Did you say something, Babe?”
“YES I DID!” I hollered. “Just look at that! Right there! It’s a TURD!”
The Viking immediately tried to deflect. “I didn’t do it!” But both cats were looking at him and nodding like they saw him do it. “You can’t believe them! They’re traitors! Besides, I can’t even fit in the Litter Box.”
“Touché, salesman!” I huffed and turned my attention to the short people.
Realizing the tide had turned, both cats looked at me. “Well?! Who flung the poo?!”
Izzie’s eyes were locked to mine, but Teddy’s eyes kept flicking to the left. Toward Izzie.
“Did you fling poo, Izzie?” I demanded. “I’ve heard you in there doing the Macarena.”
She sat a little higher and indignation flooded her face. I already knew it wasn’t her but I had to be certain before I looked at the real culprit.
“Teddy?” He wouldn’t look at me. “Did you fling the poo?” He walked away without giving a full confession.
So we made changes. I went to wrestle a 50 pound bag of heavy litter and amuse shoppers, while The Viking scooped the excrement then re-purposed the remaining litter.
But guess what. There’s still litter all over the house!!
So, how was your week? Aside from my Litter Dilemma mine was great.
PS: Enjoy this clip about Flinging Poo
Special thanks to Part Time Monster and Nerd in the Brain for hosting Weekend Coffee Share.