It all started when I came home and greeted my cats as I usually do: I said hello to Fidgy-Head and informed him that he was a "little chunky monkey," and then moved on to pick up Henry because he was crying. As I bent to pick up my little ninja, I stopped dead when a whiff of some heinous, putrid smell hit my senses. I gingerly inspected Henry to discover some wet spots on his tail and feet...brown wet spots. I then realized that Henry was covered in cat diarrhea. Disgusted, I danced around for a moment like a gay man celebrating a touchdown run in a football game while trying to put together a plan of action. What do I do!? Uh, clean the cat? Yes, that seems to be a good starting point. So after telling Henry to stay where he was (yeah, right), I gathered a dampened towel, my waterless cat shampoo and the bottle of Febreze. Henry was not impressed and growled throughout the procedure, but I managed to get the mess off of him with minimal poo contact. I then made a lap around my house looking for poo-ey pawprints and luckily found none. Then, I knew the time had come...to change the litterbox. Armed with nothing but a plastic bag and my arm over my nose, I entered the litterbox room. It's a small room with concrete walls and NO WINDOWS. The litterbox looked as though someone had tried to decorate a cake with a frosting bag...only they didn't use frosting. At this point, I would like to thank my oh-so-wise mother for introducing me to the sifter-bag technique of litterbox maintanence. Holding my breath, I quickly transferred the putrescence into my plastic bag and ran outside to throw it in the trash can. Upon re-entering my house, I breathed a sigh of relief and immediately regretted it, realizing that I hadn't Febreze'd the rooms yet. I gagged once, spritzed twice and was finally able to relax.
The end of the story? Oh, if only I were as lucky. Whilst I was changing clothes, Fidget/Lassie started to talk to me (I believe I'll refer to my cat as "Flassie" for the remainder, just because I can). I replied to Flassie, telling him that he was a good cat, but that he should really just shut up now. Flassie then developed somewhat of an urgent tone, as if to say, "Hey Lady, are you really this stupid?!" Crying and bouncing all around the room, prohibiting me from tying my shoes, grabbing the strings on my hoodie, he flew into some form of a mild tantrum. Finally tired of his caterwauling, I turned to the beast and shouted, "Holy crap, what!?" I had no idea how right I was. Flassie jumped onto the second of three shelves on their cat tree and continued his ruckus. He then stood up and placed his front paws on the shelf above him and looked back at me with an expression of incredulity. A chill ran through my spine as I realized my mistake. I am only 5' tall--flat. The cat tree is approximately 5'3" and I can't see onto the top level without standing on my toes. So I did just that. As I raised onto the balls of my feet, I came within point-blank range of a huge, steaming pile of cat diarrhea. Oh. My. Gosh. Fidget bounced across the room with an air of, "Ok, could you take care of that? kthxbye!" I begrudgingly moved to go get some cleaning supplies, debating on how exactly to pick up a pile of near-liquid foul matter. The idea of calling my mom to come over and "help me find something" flitted briefly across my mind...but no. Sometimes you have to fight your own battles, damnit!
Eventually, the mess was cleaned, the house smelled normal and I threw away a few towels. This event has pushed me one step more toward the option that Fidget may be a genius cat with exceptional communicative qualities. I wonder how long "the pile" would have stayed there if he hadn't informed me of its whereabouts? I wonder how I didn't smell it? I wonder if Henry and Fidget are secretly in cahoots with each other? I wonder if my mom would have actually helped me clean that? The future may never tell...
That was so funny. After a really long bad day you made me laugh. Something I needed. Thank you!
ReplyDeleteI was rolling on the ground. You are an amazing writer and story teller. Thank you for brightening my day.
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