First off, yes, it’s my fault, and I know it. But you wouldn’t think she would still be that full after more than ten hours. I bring Wakita in every night and stick her in the spare bathroom. If I let her roam freely, the dogs spend all night tracking her. So into the bathroom she goes and so far it’s worked out really well.
This morning I woke up after a really and truly scary nightmare, let the mutts out, opened the door to the bathroom and almost puked. Wakita ran towards the door and who could blame her? I let the poor animal out and went to visit the horror I knew awaited me. And it did.
I baked a pot roast in the crock pot yesterday and after five hours I had perfection for the carnivore. I took some of the juice and poured it over the mutt food and then game a really big bowl of mutt food to Wakita, complete with some of the juice. Everyone was so happy with me. The dogs were happy, the Wakita was happy, and I was happy. I felt like the digestive system of the cat ought to be cleared by eleven at night so into the bathroom she went. At four this morning I got a lesson in how wrong that theory is.
A big lesson.
A really big lesson.
A much bigger lesson than I thought could be produced by a five-pound cat.
What in the name of Garfield is going on with this? I mean, really, how on earth could so much come out of such a small kitty? I did what guys do; I closed the door and vamped for time. Clearly, wasn’t going away on it’s own and with two dogs running around the house…..
Yes, I know that those of you who own both cats and dogs are thanking me at this point. Thank me in the comment section if you want and no one, we will all agree on this point, no one will elaborate in any shape, fashion or form. We will let the moment pass, and if there are those who don’t understand we will allow them their bliss, will we not?
Yes, we will.
I took a large box of baking soda and nuked the offending….location with it. It was in the bathtub, Wakita was at least that kind, and this left me wondering what to do. I checked the Rulebook for Men and it clearly states that Cat Accidents are for women to clean up, not men, but then again, it says that about all messes. The book suggested I get back together with some old girlfriend, invite her over for dinner, and leave early the next morning so she can discover it for herself and take appropriate action. It’s four in the morning. By supper time the stench would be such….nevermind.
The plan is a good one. Wear a dust mask with a few cotton balls with lemon juice in it to cover the smell, and just do it. But I cannot find a dust mask. What can I use? Duct tape. See photo. Why does my mind work this way? Because I’m Southern and male. If there is a problem Duct Tape is the answer. That might be the single most obvious reason for Southern divorces, mind you, but that’s another story.
The baking soda has helped, yes, but it is still a large semi-liquid mess. I grasp it with a very large wad of paper towels. It’s still warm. That makes it worse, infinitely worse, for some reason. Five pounds of feline, more than five pounds of goo and one small strip of duct tape. The duct tape keeps the stench away from my brain, and the mess is gone in less than five minutes. I’m going to skip breakfast, I think. I’ll go to the gym and clear my mind. Everyone have a nice day, if you can.
PS Comments I do not want to read after this article is posted:
(1) When my kids were little I had to clean stuff up like that all day long you are such a wimp.
(2) Why don’t you get her a box you idiot?
(3) Let the damn thing sleep outside.