After a certain age, our cat just kind of decided that the world was her bathroom. Rather than using the perfectly good litter box, she decided that she mostly prefers the bathtub and/or floor.
Now, in case you’re not familiar with the habits of cats, poop and pee are more than just a necessary side effect of consuming nourishment; often they serve to send a message. Haven’t been spending enough time playing with the cat? Better check your pillow before bed. Not properly showing your obeisance to the true master of the house? Say goodbye to something you love.
At first I thought she was just unsatisfied with the state of her litter box. In the past she has “voiced” her displeasure over this matter in a similar fashion. Not this time; no matter how clean I kept it, she just kept on keeping on, often pooping on the floor directly in front of the just-cleaned litter box, as if to say, “See what I think of THAT, my friend.”
I hate to say I got used to it, but what was I to do? Eventually I just started making it part of my nightly rounds. Move the laundry to the dryer, scoop some poop, call it a night.
I fell a little behind on cleaning her litter, and I started to get nervous. Waiting for the “shoe” to drop, if you catch my drift. But it never came. No extra poop anywhere. In fact, I realized, there hadn’t been any improperly located feces in days.
When I finally got to the litter box, that sucker was full. And yet, no poop on the floor. No displeasure was voiced. How could this be? After going where she pleased for so long, what could have caused her to stop? Had I finally broken her? “These stupid humans. I’ve been sending them poop messages for MONTHS, and they still can’t properly clean a litter box. I give UP.”
As I pondered this mystery, I suddenly hit on the answer. Right about the time this all started, I had purchased a different litter than usual. It had been on sale, and it never for a second occured to me that Nala would notice, or care. However, we had finally used up our stockpile, and the current litter was the kind we usually buy.
Apparently, Nala is a Fresh Step girl.
I actually kind of felt bad for her. She had been trying to tell me in the loudest, smelliest way she knew how. “I would rather poop on a -5° tile floor than let my precious bottom touch that ABOMINATION you call Scoop Away!” She can’t exactly come out and say it, and besides, didn’t I already know? Cats talk with their butt.
On the other hand, SUCK IT UP, FANCY FEAST. Until you’re chipping in on the bills (or doing anything at all besides matting fur on all the winter hats), you can deign to rest your haunches on whatever is on sale this week. It’s a poop-box; you’re not eating off of it.
Oh well, all’s well that ends well, I guess. I just wish she could find a different way to send messages. One that doesn’t come from her butt.
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