First let us review the CAT. His name is Porter, we adopted him on Oahu, he started thinnish, now chubby, but always been spotted like cow---except when he's been dyed blue. After some initial trepidation Gary has completely given over to this cat, it is an understatement to say that the man would be crushed should something happen to the Pookus MacDookus. Which is odd, considering The Man is technically allergic to cats, and is an admitted prior cat-hater. ANYWAY, we have a special super-kewl-neato-fer-sure Litter Maid auto-box with kitty cabana (ask me sometime about Gary trying to assemble that thing). Now this may be one of the only times I will adhere to what the advertising on the box says, regarding using only litter maid litter. We've tried others and it literally doesn't work as well, smell, dust, clumping, etc. The litter maid litter truly is better with this particular sh*t box. It is expensive though, and so happens that a lot of it is wasted in the machine's raking process, I've devised a method to 'save' it somewhat. Part of my afternoon was spent sifting cat sh*t. The rest of my afternoon was spent shifting Porter turd from my clothes, here's why;
Fiona likes to close Porter-kitty's closet door (where the litter box is located), sometimes poor PK gets stuck IN the closet as she has closed it when he's cabana-ed doing his bizness. Before we left for the race in Utah, The Toddleator had closed the door and we neglected to make sure it was open before departure. When we returned home that Sunday evening Porter was beside himself with kitty glee, I opened the closet immediately and briefly searched for cat smell throughout the house. I caught a whiff in my closet but it dissipated and I chalked it to paranoid nasal hallucination. This morning however, my vain attempt to find things that still fit in my closet led me deeper into the first shelf than I had been in a while what with the tri-clothing getting most of the attention, articles that no longer fit simply being ignored and buried...I grabbed a shirt, then the cat pee smell wafted and out flew several dessicated cat turds. I looked closer, and still closer. The realization hit me, and all I could do was chuckle some, began singing "the cat shit in my closet" song. At that point I didn't have the time to clean it all up---besides it was going to be a closet overhaul and I needed more than the insane, frantic fuming attempt would have produced at that point. So, after Little One's nap time I took my time with the disinfectant and deodorizers sorting out the clothes, cleaning everything, more laundry to do (still may not be redeemable clothing though). I glimpsed the large piece of bark Fiona had adopted during a walk, and the idea that "holee goodness, it's everywhere!" flitted through my mind....then I recognized the mulch chunk for what it was. The damage was contained on the one shelf, luckily. Cat piss in one's closet is a super-closet-cleaning motivator! I can be grateful that this didn't happen on Kauai where everything mildews...it could have been so much worse.
In other news, the phrase of the day is "Mommmy, mommy, heolp itt", in use when asking for help with an item OR when attempting to help me with a task. Yesterday's phrases were, "mommy gotch-yoo" and "babee gotch-ooo". The Toddleator asked me for a diaper this morning, I asked her if she wanted to sit on the potty, "Jeasss" was the answer...and voila, poop in the potty! She was proud, I think.
That's my day today, lots of poop, sh*t, doo-doo, doodle, feces, scat...
Mommy or not, Here I Am.
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