Wednesday, August 8, 2007

dear e11anoire:

did you know that as soon as i get out of the shower the first place i dry is my face? did you know that today my towel smelled like cat pee? did you know you've turned me into a paranoid cat pee super-smeller?
just two days ago we were 3/4 of the way to the gym and i almost hyperventilated in the car trying to figure out where "THAT SMELL" was coming from. was it my sports bra? i just threw it on before we left, did i leave it on the floor, on a chair, somewhere e11anoire could've peed on it? in a sniffing panic i tried to pinpoint it but it turned out to be a false alarm.
sometimes coffee smells like pee. i am always on pee alert.

e11anoire, i don't understand. your daddy just got an amazing new litter-orb for you and the other kitties. the old one was gross, falling apart, and stinking up the kitchen. we even let you guys have double the litter box for a while there, you know, for transition. i know how this can be hard for you. have you seen the demo, e11a? it's the only self-cleaning litter box that REALLY WORKS. really. trust me, it won't swallow you whole. there's a seven minute countdown after you exit, you're safe!

it's getting really old chasing you around the house making sure you're not about to shit on our stuff. you've really lost my trust, and it's going to take a lot to gain it back. just yesterday we came home from the gym to find your puke-resembling poo on the floor. oh yes, plus that nice big puddle of piss. did you do that as soon as we locked the door? i think we're going to have to start faking you out when we leave, like strict parents do when they have to make sure the kids don't have boys hidden in the closet or a party 2 minutes after leaving the house. i'll shut the door, wait outside, and run back in so fast your little butt will vacuum that poop right back up and off my shoes.

the other day you walked right up to me and started crying in my face. you never do this. i knew what was happening. you started looking all around in a kitty panic, trying to find The Spot. you drunkenly swayed into the kitchen and started half-crouching, half-walking RIGHT IN FRONT OF ME. i didn't know what to do. i yelled at you, "SERIOUSLY?! you're two feet away from the litter-box!!" you were gone, you started losing your semi-solid deep dark moss green shit everywhere. when i was done cleaning your mighty green goo there was a stain on the caulk between the tiles.
while that was the grossest, whether it's because i saw it dropping from your ass all over the kitchen floor, or because of the wretched baby poo smell, or because half of it was so runny and wound up smearing while i tried to clean it, i'm sure it wasn't the last time. you've made me compromise me kitty-business values. i truly appreciated it those times last week when instead of ruining an entire load of laundry, you just went in the mop bucket. really, e11anoire, from the bottom of my heart: that was considerate, and thank you. i've been cleaning a lot lately and i understand you're having to get creative with where to pee and poo. the bucket was genius. please, if we slip up and leave a t-shirt or boxers or a single sock on the floor, please please please don't take it as an invitation. it's not. if you must go somewhere that is not the litter-orb, keep it in the bucket. and please don't make me watch.

this kind of behavior will not do little cat. i can't even use the "i'm not mad, i'm just disappointed" line on you. i am furious. do you know how much pine-sol i've been through? how much murphy's oil? the pledge "just pour it on" floor cleaner is almost empty.
and your shit is looking increasingly not right. oh what you're doing to your little bowels and bladder. this is not healthy. please. give the litter robot a chance. it can be your new best friend if you try.


lint said...


alicia lynette said...

odorlessly, no less