My Left Foot

My left foot usually falls victim to Lucky. Look at all
that cat hair.

"I stepped in cat shit," is not a commonly used phrase. It's usually dog shit. Not cat shit. But if you heard someone say this, that they actually did indeed step in cat shit, you would expect them to be standing outside somewhere, like in a field, or a garden, or a litterbox. Not indoors. Not in an apartment.

Not unless you are in my apartment.

Lucky strategically places his dumplings around my home. They each seem to have their own statement:

• In the middle of the kitchen: "You should have given me some of your chicken."
• Underneath the kitchen table: "Just in case you didn't hear me, you should have given me some of your chicken."
• In the middle of the doorway: "You owe me rent."
• Next to his litterbox: "Don't mock me."
• Next to his cat dish: "Oops."
• In the middle of the living room: "I just really want you to step in this."
• In front of the TV: "I hate Project Runway."
• Underneath the coffee table: "Hehehehehe."
• Underneath my roommate's bed: "Only nightmares for you!"

For quite some time I could dodge his mine field. I could practically do it with my eyes closed. But for some odd reason, lately, I have been stepping in his demons, and only with my left foot. I can only only assume that the Lucky calculated my footsteps with the fact that I am right-handed, and somehow came up with the most brilliant layout for his offspring.

I wonder what would happen if I scattered his droppings in areas that he has not yet explored. Or right below the arm of the couch where he usually lands after a nap. Maybe he'd step in his own shit. God. That would rule.