When the Day Starts Off Shitty...

You know those days when you roll out of bed in a dizzy haze and you think, "I didn't clean out the litter box yesterday."  And you feel like your cats are going to think you're a total jerk (though, hell, they probably already do--they're cats, after all) so you go straight to the box and start scooping. 

Now that you're holding a little bag of congealed cat waste, you remember that you washed out all your garbage cans last night and they're drying on your balcony and you're not going out there in your skimpy pyjamas because your neighbour often drinks his morning coffee on his balcony.


Right, so you put the little bag down on the bathroom tile just as StupidCat (everyone with multiple cats has one of these, I think) comes to check out the freshly cleaned litter.  You go to the bedroom to put on some real clothes, listening to StupidCat raking around in the litter with those nails you really must cut more often but you don't because he bites you when you try.


You've thrown on clothes, you're heading to the balcony, when StupidCat gets wind of where you're going.  Because, you see, there are baby pigeons on the balcony and he's desperate to get at them.  So you're walking through your living room, your cat streaks through your legs, tripping you up enough to feel badly for accidentally kicking him in the head, though not enough to actually fall.


When he races ahead of you, that's when you notice it: StupidCat didn't finish up in the litter box before getting distracted by the prospect of pigeon babies for breakfast.  He doesn't seem to realize it, but he's trailing poops and they've landed on your carpet and... oh, for the love of god... good thing you put on a pair of socks.

Some people hate cat stories, some people hate scat stories.  This one has it all.

Hugs, 

Giselle