Balls and Walnuts
more than you ever wanted to know
On this Valentine’s Day, I really, really do not love my cats
I know what you’re thinking: another writer writing about his damned cats.
Sure, some writers do a great job writing about their pets. Pat Kirby can do it, but then, what sort of hard-hearted sumbitch wouldn’t love Rat Dog? But me: if my animals aren’t having sex, I’m usually, well, uninspired.
Until now.
Yesterday, I came home to a noxious cloud of cat poo. I should tell you that we live in a warehouse-sized home with good ventilation, and that we would hardly smell it if a raccoon-sized rat died in our attic. I’m sure several already have. But this, this brought to mind that old commercial where the next-door-neighbor-lady enters your home frowning and sniffing.
I followed my nose. First, I went to the attached garage, hoping against hope that someone had laid a ripe one in the litter box WHERE IT BELONGED. No such luck; the miasma faded the moment I stepped out into the garage. I backtracked. My nose led me to our guest bathroom, where I found —
I should also tell you that when I entered the house, our tabby Faithful streaked out like a squirted watermelon seed, came to an abrupt halt a cautious thirty feet away, and stared at me. Our calico Emerald, meanwhile, looked at me with guilty eyes and slinked away. Melantha was nowhere to be seen.
All three were acting guilty.
Back to the guest bathroom. Somehow, a roll of paper towels had found its way into the sink.
Beneath the paper towels, I found a roll of toilet paper;
beneath the toilet paper, several feet of unraveled toilet paper, soaked in urine;
beneath the urine-soaked toilet paper, a pile of poo, stuck like clay to the sink.
Here’s my reconstruction of this afternoon’s events. I know now that Melantha, the absent cat, was entirely innocent; she had been wandering the neighborhood since yesterday. Emerald or Faithful, one of them had to be at fault. Moreover, it must have been Faithful. She’s a mean bitch. If Emerald had screwed up, Faithful wouldn’t have lifted a paw to help her. But Emerald, she’s so sweet she couldn’t have refused Faithful’s sorrowful request.
I poopied in the sink. Help me, please!
Faithful gets the bright idea of covering it up with toilet paper. What we can’t see won’t hurt her, right?
It’s no good, says Emerald. I can still smell it. What the Christ have you been eating?
Don’t start with me, says Faithful. If you don’t have any bright ideas, I’d appreciate it if you would just shut the fuck up.
As for the rest of it . . .
E: I know! Let me pee on the toilet paper.
F: That’ll make it better?
E: Can’t get any worse.
F: True.
Emerald pees on the toilet paper.
F: Still pretty bad. Here, let me try.
Faithful pees on the toilet paper.
F: I just don’t get it. There must be some reason why the humans keep so much of this paper around. Here, let’s put the whole roll on top of it. That’s got to help.
Faithful and Emerald stare down into the sink.
E: Um.
F: Yeah. I know.
E: Hey! Remember when we peed all over that plastic tarp the Bald Angry One put down to catch the window-leaks?
F: Oh, yeah! He mopped it up with paper towels! Here, help me with this thing.
(The sound of cats grunting with the effort of lugging a roll of paper towels from the kitchen into the guest bathroom.)
E (pawing the sweat off her brow): Ooof. There! Thank God that’s over.
F: Um.
E: Yeah. I know. I still smell it. I don’t suppose you’re strong enough to lug over that box of kitty litter?
***
By the way, seeing as how you’re all my dear, dear friends, you’re all welcome to visit any time. We have a guest bedroom, with its very own guest bathroom, too.
Happy Valentine’s Day.
D.
Technorati tag: Valentine’s Day
Miscreants! I have 7 cats in a 3000 square foot house so I know your situation, at least basically.
Today’s present from felines to humans was several lovely hairballs on the upper floor landing. Somehow my many years of living with cats has allowed me to develop a sort of Hairball Avoidance Sense. I rarely ever step in them
My husband, on the other hand, is the bearer of the Hairball Seeking Feet.
I’m sitting in the office typing away and I hear “Arrgh! Damned cats!” then the sound of someone hopping on one foot back to the bedroom. I would assume this was to get a clean pair of socks on after removing the sock that had borne the brunt of the detection.
About 3 minutes later, I hear the bedroom door shut and steps in the hall again. Some assorted grumbling is accompanied by the sound of throwing something in the trash. A few more steps… The same voice yells “God Dammit! You mangy pieces of fur coat! I will get you for this!”
The sound of hopping commences again….
I have to admit, I am cruel. I was laughing myself silly in the office. The cats, being not TOO dumb, had retreated to unreachable areas.
Ah, the joys of felines….
– Maura
Good grief, your cats tried to hide it?! They’re smarter than my three year old!!
Faithful and Emerald stare down into the sink.
E: Um.
F: Yeah. I know.
(coughing up white tea and blotting the keyboard.) Happy Valentine’s Day, Doc.
LOLOL!!
That is so funny – smart cats!
My mother’s Siamese goes in the toilet – and flushes it. But you have to leave the seat cover up. He will also just go on the seat cover if it’s closed, lol.
1. Eww! I’m extremely happy that Hobkin’s legs are too stumpy to give him access to the SINKS.
2. I recommend “Nature’s Miracle.”
C. (Totally unrelated to your post) There you are! I’ve been out of the loop frindsblog-wise for a good chunk of January, and I’ve been trying to catch up in the last week. I was wondering why I hadn’t seen a post from you in a while. Apparently, I missed your move announcement . . .
Um, lovely personality notwithstanding, the Rat Dog doesn’t have the sense to try to hide her foul deeds. She pukes on the couch and makes no attempt to hide it with a throw pillow.
So, um, hurrah for smart cats?
Happy Valentines Day.
(The sound of cats grunting with the effort of lugging a roll of paper towels from the kitchen into the guest bathroom.)
*wipes coffee off monitor*
Stop it, Doug! I mean it! You’re making my stomach hurt with all the laughing! Sweet Jeebus…
That’s why I have a fish. A single, solitary, lonely little fish, who has never shat in my sink. That I know of.
hee hee hee
In the days of dot matrix printers and accordion folded paper, my aunt once came home to an entire box of printer paper which had been unfolded all around the living room. Except that it had also been woven in and through the chair legs without ripping at the perforations. We riffed for days on what had gotten into the cats to attempt such a complicated weaving/origami project.
hee hee hee
I kind of like pet posts, but then I’m a raving blog addict and like political and religious posts, and just about anything, as long as the
writerblogger doesn’t use words like ‘kewl.’That just bugs me.
The cats, though. Wow. I’m still chuckling about it, and amazed and their intelligence.
Funny stuff, Doug. Thanks.
Okay. If they’re so intelligent, why haven’t they figured out how to use the toilet like Sam’s cat? That would be kewl. (Sorry Shelbi, couldn’t resist 😉 )
Er, Doug?
I clicked your name/hyperlink and got directed here. What happened to Shattered?
Eww.
There is nothing, NOTHING, in this world worse than cat-byproduct.
Geeze,I never realized how lucky we are that our two actually go in the cat litter boxes. In fact, when left for 3 days on their own, they don’t get vindictive and STILL use the litter boxes.
This was quite funny…I needed a good laugh.
Hi JP! I’ve emailed you. Dean, trust me, gangrene is worse.
Hi Sis. You have very well behaved cats, no doubt about it.
OMG! This was too funny! I love reading about other people’s pet misadventures. It makes my cat look like a saint. I read this post to my husband and he was chuckling the whole time.
Is this the same cat that hangs out on the ceiling? Thanks for the laugh.
No, my ceiling climber is Melantha,
. . . the one innocent of the three. Thanks, Anduin.