Poop Dish

*Thought I'd spare you a photo for this entry.

Yeah, I put poop in his dish two weeks ago.

He dropped his shapes right in front of me, so I grabbed him and tried to put him in his litterbox before the circles and half moons came crashing onto my hardwood floor, but instead they bounced off my knees and feet as I was carrying him to his toilet.

I couldn't squeeze him into his box. He scratched me and ran into my roommate's room and shot out a few shapes in there.

While he was doing that, I was frantically trying to remove the cover of his litterbox. You know in the scary movies when the killer is after the girl in the parking lot and she has her keys and everything, but she can't get the damn thing in the keyhole and then she gets wacked? Well that was me, except it was my cat and he was pooping, and I was fumbling with his litterbox.

So of course he was done shaping by the time I got the thing off, but I still grabbed him and made him sit in his box. Did that for like 20 minutes. Let him go and he scurried off to his kitty condo.

Then I put two of his poopies in his cat dish and placed the dish right in front of him as he poked his head out of his condo. He seemed upset, but I couldn't tell if it was because I just forced him to sit in his box for 20 minutes, or if it was because there was two shapes in his dish. It all happened so fast.

This was around 2pm. After a while I put his dish back in the kitchen in its usual spot. But the poopies stayed. They stayed in there until midnight.

Dinner time was confusing for him that night.

He kept walking up to his dish expecting crunchies and instead it was poop. He didn't seem angry, just genuinely confused. I don't even think he realized it was his own shit. He just did this back and forth thing. No meow, no wincing. Just a quick peek, maybe a distant sniff, and nothing.

So midnight rolled around, and I emptied his dish--YES, PETA I WASHED HIS DISH WITH SOAP TOO--and then I put his food in there. He trotted over and ate his crunchies.

The next morning there was poop on the living room floor. So my brilliant plan did absolutely nothing. What exactly was I expecting? Well, it was a good laugh.

I decided to take him to his doctor. You won't believe what he did... (oh the suspense my 3 million readers must be feeling!)

Litterbox Lingo

This is me thinking dark thoughts about Lucky.

I'm obviously failing in my communication to Fat Luck. He has completely abandoned the thought of using his litterbox. Yesterday, my boyfriend suggested that we just throw out the litterbox. But I have plans for that litterbox...

In the past, when the Lucky would have those rare moments of making poopies and pee-pees in his box, I would cheer for him. I would pet him and say in a sweet delicate voice, "Yaye, Lucky! You went in your box today! Yaye for you!" Sometimes I would even give him a little kitty-cat treat. But he seemed agitated when I would recognize his good deed. He would leap out of my arms, spit out his treat, or bolt under the bed in a fit of shame.

That's when I realized that he hates being a good cat and doing good things. He is only happy when he is bad.

Sometimes I get really nasty ideas about the Luck. I'm almost hesitant to write them down here, but these ideas kind of seem like the perfect solution right now. This morning, he left a few fun shapes in my bedroom, on the floor. When I scooped them up, I had an irresistible urge to drop them in his cat dish rather than the trash. I wonder what he would do. I wonder if I have to rip myself from being a civilized human, and start thinking like an animal. What would the Luck do if he found his poopies with his crunchies? What would he think? Would he think? Oh that cat thinks, all right. He plots. He schemes. I decided that I might do this. But I need to be home when I do this so I can see his reaction.

Another thought I have is to put his cat dish inside his litterbox. Or to throw his crunchies in the litterbox with the sand, and throw out the cat dish. I don't really know what kind of message I'm trying to send with this or with the one above. "Don't shit where you eat." Hm. It's a little cloudy for me right now. I think I just kind of want to piss him off and cross one of his boundaries.

PETA might read this and want to throw cat shit in my food. But the Luck has done worse than that, PETA. I mean, this cat has shat on me in the middle of the night, while I was asleep. Four times.

I'm not sure how much longer I can fight these thoughts and urges. Not really sure if I'm even fighting them...