I make no apologies for the crude title of this post, because it is my life. In fact, the alternate working title I considered was ‘Urine & Feces’, which is somehow even worse. But it’s true. I currently pay a mortgage on a barnyard-scented dumpster.
It all started in June when we adopted a kitten, Eddie Cheddar. A sweet, cuddly, pissing and shitting kitten. Then we adopted another cat, Panda, an adult male whose cat mom had developed terrible allergies and needed a new home. And of course, both new cats immediately got along with each other and our existing elderly male black cat, Black Cat. NOT. It’s been six months and I can’t take it anymore.
To be fair, the pissing and shitting has only been an issue since the weather started getting colder. The two adult cats had been pretty much living outdoors in an attempt to distance themselves from the kitten for several months. Which is reasonable because the kitten is super annoying, and not unexpectedly so. Kittens are total assholes; it’s just a fact. He is constantly in their faces, biting their heads, attacking their tails, and launching sneak attacks anytime they’re in the vicinity.
Panda had even torn a hole in the screen of one of the windows in our ratty old camping trailer that’s parked in the driveway and lived in there for a few months. He would come out for food twice per day but otherwise burrowed inside my sleeping bag and snoozed in peace. Lord knows where he’d been pooping and peeing; there was no sign or smell of it in the trailer, so I figure I’ll probably find it in the spring when I plant the garden. Same deal with Black Cat; he spent most of his days outside but unlike Panda, I located his poo patch in the front garden.
So, while the cats weren’t exactly doing their business in the designated area, at least I didn’t really have to deal with it. I’m counting on the outdoor poops to simply dissolve into the ground like the deer poops on my lawn do over the winter. However, in the meantime, the kitten was not figuring out the litter box situation at all, and he was too little and unvaccinated to be allowed outdoors to crap at will like the other two. And, in his defense, we did adopt him very early and he wasn’t quite weaned. This can apparently have an impact on their ability to figure out the toilet situation. At first, this was not a big deal, because he was so small that his pees and poops were very manageable.
But then he got bigger, and his pees more voluminous and his poops larger and stinkier. Then they started appearing in the bathtub. In my potted pepper plants that I brought in for the winter. Under the bed. Behind the bedroom door. Under the dining room table. On the front hall carpet. In the middle of the kitchen. On the bathmat, which my three year-old niece stepped in and inadvertently smeared all over the tiles with her sock. I took off the offending footwear, sealed it in a ziploc, and sent it home with her. Fucking poo sock in a ziploc.
Every time it happens, I diligently remove the waste, wash the area thoroughly, and then spray the bejesus out of everything within a five foot radius with enzyme cleaner. Unfortunately, this happens roughly 17 times per day. And don’t think I wasn’t trying everything to get the dang kitten to use the box. He simply cannot understand it’s purpose, like he thinks to himself, ‘why would I step in this rough, dusty, stinky box, when I can pee on this soft, fluffy towel’??
One day, the kitten got diarrhea. Probably from climbing into the kitchen sink and eating garbage off dirty dishes. In any case, the consistency and urgency of his poops seemed to cause him great distress, and instead of staying in one place to complete his bowel movement, he took off tearing around the house like he was on fire, shitting as he went. He jumped on the dining room table, ran across it and down back into the kitchen. Up onto the counters, into the sink and out, down the stairs, up the stairs, and leaving trails of liquid shit everywhere he went. When we finally trapped him and threw him in the bathroom, the damage was done. Shit was everywhere. On the walls, on the floor, on the carpet, on the counters, in the sink. It’s hard to talk about; I’m still traumatized.
Kitty bath after the liquishit incident
We are currently at the record-breaking litter box usage success rate of 50%. However, ever since that running and pooping episode, the kitten has been acting completely bananas after taking a crap. So even if he actually gets in the litter box to do his business, chances are good that he’ll flip out and go running around. And, we have discovered that he frequently isn’t quite done pooping yet when he takes off. So we keep finding tiny turds all over the place, the last dregs of his BM that drop off as he runs around. Or, even better, stick to his super floofy tail and he ends up with dingleberries.
Well, once the other cats had to start living inside again, they were NOT OK with the litter situation. Nor were they OK with the feline situation in general. Hissing and growling is the current soundtrack in my home. I thought the whole bathroom situation had finally sorted itself out after the kitten went into the vet to be spayed or neutered or whatever it is they do to boy cats. He came back and seemed to have had some sort of epiphany while sedated and having his testicles rendered useless, as he immediately started to use the box I had put by the front door to thwart his new favorite place to pee, down the heating vent. Which is a sneaky place to pee because you don’t notice it until the furnace kicks in and shoots hot cat urine stench out of all the heat vents in the entire house and it’s too late. I was so excited he was using it until I found him scooping litter out onto the floor, and then just peeing on the litter pile. By the way, cleaning up peed-on litter from tiles is way worse than just cleaning straight-up pee. While in the box, peed-on litter hardens into a scoopable ball. Peed-on litter on the floor develops a cement-like consistency. FYI.
Meanwhile, the two older cats were having a dominance battle behind the scenes, resulting in one trip to the vet’s office and two cats on antibiotics for infected, shredded claws. Not content to have me deal with just piss and shit, these two got into such a fight that I had to go around cleaning up additional bodily fluids; I found bloody paw prints and literal blood spatters on the wall.
They can still see you in there, Panda
Then I discovered that since the kitten didn’t seem to be able to figure out the litter box, the other two cats don’t think they need to use it either. On a rare trip into the basement, I noticed an unpleasant smell and went investigating. I discovered a horrific peebath. That’s like a bloodbath, only with pee. Not content to just sit down and pee on the carpet, Black Cat has to totally showboat and spray it all over the walls, about three feet up off the floor, to let the others know he is the boss. Then it drizzles down behind the baseboards and seeps into the carpet.
Black Cat: habitual wall pisser
I swear to God you guys, I don’t know what the fuck is going on. How did this become my life? One of the Top Twenty Reasons I Don’t Have Kids© is that I don’t have to deal with pee and poo that’s not my own. And now here I am, trying to bloody potty train three practically feral wild animals. These fuckers are lucky they are cute.
Basket of adorable: HE’S LUCKY