In Which I Fantasize About Various Fates for Scabby the Cat

I came home from Mali's baby music class (Lame lame lame! I am about five years past wanting to have anything to do with googly-eyed M0mmy and me crap) to find that Scabby the cat had, for no reason apparent, taken a big shit on my bed.

This would not be such a major issue if Leelo hadn't taken also taken a big misplaced shit this morning, on the rug in his case. (Although I am actually happy about why he did it: because he didn't want to poo in the potty for me. He kept asking for a diaper instead, which he never ever does. After ten minutes on the pot without any results I put his underwear back on. He immediately whipped them off, and, while I was preparing his morning snack in the kitchen, did his deed. All this means he now knows if he needs to drop a load. That is GOOD.) I spot cleaned all the affected carpet areas (what's the point of crapping on the rug if you can't quickly put your foot in it and then run all around the room?) and will steam clean them later this afternoon.

This would not make me fantasize about finding Scabby another home if Iz hadn't had a dream about reading a book while on the potty, and consequently wet her bed in the middle of the night. (Seymour, bless him, took that one. We told her that this was not a big deal, that almost every kid does it once in a while.) The sheets are still piled up on the washer.

This would not make me think fondly of my mother's 3 B's solution to the problem (bag, brick, bridge) if I wasn't already planning on taking our regular down comforter to the dry cleaner this afternoon on account of Scabby doing exactly the same thing last Thursday. Although in that case, she did it twice! Once on the blanket lying on top of the comforter, and then--just as I was feeling grateful for her thoughtfulness in defecating on something machine washable--on the dry-clean-only comforter.

I love my cats. But I love my husband, kids, and sanity more. If this keeps up I will find her a new home and I will not feel one whit guilty about it. Unless the new home is at the bottom of L0wer Emera1d Lake, of course.