Thursday, February 10, 2011

Mr. Spock Knows The Answer

I’m worried that the bite of baby poop-like bio-hazard substance I ingested a couple of weeks ago killed a few brain cells because I have been unable to come up with anything to write about since that unfortunate dinner. It must have been even more traumatic for me than I realized and in my attempt to block the portion of my brain responsible for terror I may have inadvertently blocked all my creative brain cells as well. It’s pretty sad that the only thing I can think to write about since that ill-fated dinner episode is also doo doo-related.

Unfortunately, my tale is Sophie doo doo-related and Dean loves to go out of his way to point out to me any little feline misstep. I’m not really sure why he bothers because he is never going to win the “your dog” / “your cat” battle. First of all, my kitties/cats rarely screw up. Secondly, when they do make a mistake (as you will see in my examples) it is so insignificant it’s barely worth noting. But I suppose when you are the owner of a dog who over the years has not only repeatedly, but royally, screwed up, you grasp at any straw within your reach.

The Examples:

“I was in the kitchen and I heard a crash. I went into the living room and YOUR kitty had knocked over the shamrock plant and was batting the pottery pieces around on the floor. I had to go buy a new pot and repot the plant.”

“Your dog chewed up the VCR remote and now we can't record any of your favorite shows.”

“Your cat threw up a ribbon.”

“Your dog snuck her head in the litter box and had a snack. And then you let her kiss you.”

“Your cat threw up a hair tie.”

“While you were out of town your dog found all the bags of your beer making supplies, took each bag in her mouth, and one at a time, shook them vigorously back and forth, spraying hops, wheat, and powdery stuff all over the family room carpet. It took me two hours to clean it up.”

“Your cat threw up a hair ball.”

“While you were out of town your dog moved the huge boulder we had blocking the wooden gate, then proceeded to chew off the bottom of it, after which she tunneled her way under. I had to bail YOUR dog out of the pound and they gave ME the ticket.”

“Your kitty used the bathtub as her litter box.”

“Your dog has used the whole carpet-covered basement floor as HER bathroom –  after she ate my iron pills … when you were at work … when it was nighttime and we were asleep … and when the cookies/bread/candy/muffins she stole off the kitchen counter were just too much for her delicate stomach...etc., etc., etc. ”
End of Examples

That bathtub one … that’s got a back story. It’s not nearly as bad as it seems. Here’s the story. Sophie seems to prefer the bathtub over her litter box – but only on occasion, not every time. And not for everything….just the solid portion of her daily constitutional. The first time it happened I thought maybe the can of cat mush she’d eaten the night before (reminiscent of a dinner I recently hadn't eaten) just hadn’t agreed with her and in her desperation she’d been driven to the bathtub. So I stuck to dry cat food. The next time it happened I thought maybe Shadow was blocking her way to the laundry room. I debated with myself a while … but Dean would notice if Shadow was missing.

A couple of weeks ago she was spayed and declawed which meant she had to use special newspaper pellets as litter for two weeks. The bathtub incidents seemed to increase a bit after the surgery and I thought maybe she hated the pellets so I shredded nice, soft newspaper for her but it didn’t seem to make a difference. I was beginning to get frustrated because I couldn’t come up with any logical reason why she would prefer a bathtub. And the risk (slim though it may be) that any animal of mine could cause more trouble than Dean’s was just unacceptable.

I began wondering if she was just lazy until the morning I saw her pawing in the bathtub as I was getting ready for work. I knew what that pawing meant. I picked her up, took her downstairs, physically put her inside the litter box and headed back upstairs to finish getting ready. The lazy theory went out the window when she immediately jumped out, followed me up and went right back into the tub where she once again began pawing.

Again I went to the tub to get her but I realized as soon as I picked her up that time was short. I immediately flipped her on her back and ran out of the bathroom, through the bedroom, down the stairs and around the corner with a squirming kitty, belly up, legs peddling as she tried to right herself. I think that leg peddling sped up the process at hand because as I was running my right hand became warm and filled with more than Sophie’s butt. There was no way I could turn the laundry room door knob with my right hand so I loosened the grip I had on Sophie with my left. By then she was twisting hard to get away so I was forced to grip harder with my right – the warm one, holding more than a cat – and … I think you get the picture. I managed to get the door open and once again (even though by then it was pointless) deposited her in her litter box and then went in search of some disinfectant.

I was bewailing this dilemma with my cubie-wall-mate a few days ago when he informed me that when Sophie was being fostered (while she was recovering from ringworm) she had to be kept isolated from other animals and that isolation room was a bathroom. And in that bathroom her litter box was kept in the bathtub. It was an “ah ha!” moment of fireworks and bells and whistles. There was a logical reason for her behavior and there is a solution so these few mishaps do not count against the cat portion of the “your dog/your cat” battle. Sophie just needs a little reprogramming and I still win.

So, as you can see I still don’t have anything to write about other than soft, brownish, pungent substances. But at least this time I wasn’t expected to eat it.

We Will Get Healthy And Strong Or Die Trying Tip

Protein is an important dietary requirement.  During these difficult economic times, you may want to consider roadkill as your source of protein. You may find that by hunting the wild roadkill you are not only fulfilling your daily protein requirements but gaining the added benefit of exercise during the bending process as you scrape your carcass of choice from the pavement.

For your benefit, I have included a link for some delicious roadkill recipes you may want to try – here and here.   However, before you load up your lawn chair, plastic bags and shovels and head on out, be sure to check the roadkill regulations in your neck of the woods.   For example: in my own great state of Wyoming it must be tagged by a Game Warden first.

Remember, only bring home road kill that’s still warm. Otherwise, it’s just not safe.

1 comment:

LisaWyo said...

Actually, technically, the litter box was NEXT to the bathtub in her foster home. But the confusion is still probably apparent LOL