September 10, 2004

Cat Crap Fever

The little sleazeballs have decided that it is not just a good idea, but their God-given right, as living organisms, to select the location at which they will void their bladders/colons. And, sorrowfully for us, the selected locations have NOT included the litter box on two occasions this week.

And before anyone e-mails me to tell me that this could be a sign of illness and to rush them to the vet, let me assure you: they are both in perfect physical health. No...it's the mental instability that they need to be treated for.

I suspect, though I can't be sure (because, really, who the hell knows what cats are thinking?) that the upheaval caused by my parents' visit has disturbed the oh-so-delicate psyche of one or both of the miserable little furballs. He/she has chosen to express his/her displeasure through art, in this case a modern piece entitled, "Here's Some Crap, Will You Please Leave Now?"

Ironically enough it has been my parents who have discovered the "gift" on both occasions -- and cleaned it up, I might add. This elevates them to near-beatification status, in my book. Anyone else in this house would have looked at, and acknowledged the existence of, the mess and then continued on about their day, operating under the theory that it would eventually find its own way into the trash can.

I have spoken to both felines about this issue but have been met with only icy stares and buttocks presented in a most offensive manner. They look at me as if to say, "Impudent woman, we do you the favor of relieving ourselves inappropriately on the tile floor instead of your recently-cleaned carpets, and you have the audacity to feel anything but grateful?"

So I can see we will need to take other measures to rectify the situation. Robert's suggestion of taking them to the dodgy Chinese restaurant downtown and offering them at wholesale per-pound prices has been rejected. I'm thinking therapy and a good healthy dose of pharmaceuticals is about our only hope. Because, really, who in their right mind does this? You don't see humans expressing dissatisfaction in this manner. I mean, can you imagine if this was a method people used? Here comes your boss, down the hall and up onto your desk..."Johnson? I'm sorry, but this is what I think of your latest report..." Nope, it just ain't right. And I'm going to see that it stops. Right after I mop the floor.



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