Wednesday, April 13, 2011

From Dog Barf to Cat Poop: It Just Keeps Getting Better!

I've been away from home for just under a week, and returned late Monday night after spending part of the evening with my father and Quinn, the barfer. I drove into the garage at the Chez in my mother's car and could hear all three dogs barking their heads off, especially Quinn, who my father says now starts crying at the foot of the stairs around 4 a.m.; the poor little old guy is about twelve or so, and when he wakes up alone in the middle of the night, it frightens him. This is his expression most of the time I was there the other day:


Quinn, panicking.



So, after disappointing him so badly, I rolled on to my house, another sixty miles southeast. The Airedales were thrilled that I was home, but the Siamese cat, Frosty, voiced his displeasure loudly and at length. I found other evidence of feline displeasure almost immediately; the grey cat, Gus, had peed all over the refrigerator door. I cleaned that up, and exhausted, went to bed.

In the middle of the night, I got up to visit the the bathroom and smelled something funny; I reached down to straighten a bunched up rug and felt a substance that should not have been there. I confirmed it as the source of the odor once I flipped on the lights; nothing like having to clean up cat poop and put the bathroom linens in the washer at 3 a.m.! It seemed like things couldn't possibly get worse until I picked up a shoe in order to move the rug...and a nice, hard kitty nugget plopped out on the floor.



The Culprit


It then crossed my mind that I'd heard the Siamese, in a rare departure from his sustained yowling, scratching around the bathroom. As one of my childhood friends mentioned, there probably should've been an immediate decrease in the aggregate feline population of my house as the horror sank in. This, however, is the cat who talks to my mother on the telephone all the time. Last night, as I wearily made my way to bed, I leveled a threat just before turning off the light: "Frosty, if you leave me any more presents, I will duct tape your butt closed!" 

He must've gotten my point. A few minutes later I heard him alight the stairs, headed for the cat box. I have too much going on to deal with cat poop in my shoes, although it perfectly illustrates how I've felt for the last week.

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