Z_Fan
03-12-2005, 03:53 PM
(This happened this morning, and since the cats are the wifes idea, I sent her the following e-mail at her work...)
Dearest Wife,
I know you noticed that the cats had (again) knocked over one of your plants in the kitchen and proceeded to spread the dirt all over the floor. They are guilty, and should be punished. *PLUS* yesterday's events, specifically of the cats making your charm bracelet their latest chase & chew toy quickly made the cats mine to protect from harm. This was to thwart their instant death at your hand. In hindsight, capital punishment for kittens might not be such a bad idea...yes yes, cats don't have no stinking constitutional rights, so they are not guaranteed the right to life. Cotton, Raime and Bandit and merely inferior beings. Pet cats!
Today, the cats have exclusively become part of your property (again) - their protection should be left in your hands. If they were my cats, they'd all be dead in similar fashion to the suggestive nature of the spaghetti sauce commercial. Unless I can find some other clever way of riding myself of this problem...
Early this morning, I thought I smelled something a little funny. This is about 2AM in the morning. Wasn't sure about it, so I didn't go on a scouting mission to determine the source of the foul odor. I wasn't up for any detective work. That was a mistake.
When I finally decided to pull my aging body out of bed, I did so in the usual fashion. Drag one leg across the bed, find the ground, and make the other leg follow suit. I made my way to the master bathroom, taking notice that Cotton was following me - he was scratching at the bathmat - I figured he might be hungry. He exits the bathroom upon hearing the flush of the toilet. Simultaneously, the telephone rings. After the brief phone call which took place in the kitchen, I decide I have nothing better to do than sleep. So, I head back to the bedroom and get into bed in similar but opposite fashion to how I exit. Now, as I did this, an overwhelming sense of disgust quickly came across me, for my leg got wet as it passed over the sheets - and very quickly - my senses of smell went to full scale red alert.
Cotton didn't want food.
The puddle of piss was about 1.5 feet in diameter. Clearly he'd been holding this for some time, until his bladder could take the pressure no more. It was just "number one" but it soaked through the top 'throw' on the bed, it went through the duvet cover and the entire center portion of the duvet. Furthermore, it soaked into the sheet covering the bed, and right into the very bottom white linen on the bed. It didn't appear to have absorbed into the bed matress itself, but the interest it was sparking in the other cats suggests the smell is definitely present.
This represents three full loads of laundry - and I have developed empathy for the process of washing and drying the bedsheets. This washing - is necessary - Cotton's urine is potent.
I hastily decided to run downstairs with the sheets in my hand to quickly wash the stench away. Descending the stairway I find myself looking directly upon a rather heaping pile of crap at the bottom of the steps. I've elected to call this piece of evidence "number two". Mostly because I have still retained a sense of humor. The evidence labelled number two was ginormous! I mean, it was a *HEAP* o'crap. The stench filled the entire landing. *HOW* I wondered, could this pile of shit produce that much stench?
I continue past the object of offense and proceeded onward to the laundry room. I make an observation - the door to the cat's bathroom is shut tight. The window in their room was open, and with all the wind last night, some funky kind of pressure system has forced the door to slam shut. Thus locking our three cats from their luxurious 10' x 12' bathroom with triple stalls. Unfortunately, no cats were present inside the room when the door shut. This would have been an ideal scenario - yes, they would have been trapped - *BUT* they'd have a better place to shit and piss than on the bed or on our newly installed carpet.
I proceed to correct the door problem by placing a box in front of it and toss in the first load of laundry. When I exit, I catch a glimpse of what I'm going to call exhibit "number three". I've completely lost any sense of humor now, this isn't fucking funny anymore. Unlike exhibit number one, and number two - exhibit number three offers up a combination of both. It's carefully placed beside a box, almost out of view - but certainly within the range of one's sniffer. This helps explain the overpowering stench in the landing area of the basement.
I thought I was lucky - and it turned out that was not to be the case. There is more! Yes, please contain laughter and emotions of disgust. For exhibit "number four" is far grosser than number one, two or three. In fact, it's visual appearance is like what you'd get if the members of Fear Factor came, collected samples one, two and three and mixed them together in a blender and plopped the resulting goo down on my fucking basement carpet! It is a moderately large pile of yellow brownish liquidfied crap and piss. *AND IT FUCKING STINKS*
Now, I was exceptional at math in school. I realize that with the various combinations of pleasant surprises so eloquently arranged for me this morning - this indeed represents the maximum of all three cats excrement potential. I have decided to rectify the situation - and I'm fucking mad and grossed out. I ponder what would be the quickest and most effective way to eliminate the source of this problem. In a rage of fury, I found a hammer and possess an intense desire to swing it wildly. I'm thinking this would work. But I need something else. I find a screw driver - ahh, a nice sharp but flat point. I have the tools needed to solve this from ever happening again! Strangely enough, as I head down stairs to the cats bathroom, I'm not feeling any remorse for what I am about to do. I justify in my mind that it is completely necessary to correct this unacceptable behaviour. I just can't have cats shitting all over the fucking place. But I have a dilemma, one of these cats has been mine for 15 years, I can't be extreme with him...I rationalize he's been too good for too long...it's these damn two new kittens that create most of the problems.
I locate the first of two little problems. I get everything lined up squarely with the screwdriver and then I swing the hammer with killer force - *WHACK* - it shoots into the air, does a couple of flips, bounces off the door and lands on the ground, dead still. The first problem has been eliminated. I toss it aside and quickly line up the second. With that, and no further hesitation, I place the screwdriver in the optimal position based upon the first strike (right on the base of the head), and swing the hammer visciously knowing this is the last one - *WHACK* - the second one falls to the ground and the silence is beautiful. With that, I collect the two door hinge pins I've just knocked loose and remove the door. Those cats won't be shitting all over the place any more!
Your loving Husband.
Dearest Wife,
I know you noticed that the cats had (again) knocked over one of your plants in the kitchen and proceeded to spread the dirt all over the floor. They are guilty, and should be punished. *PLUS* yesterday's events, specifically of the cats making your charm bracelet their latest chase & chew toy quickly made the cats mine to protect from harm. This was to thwart their instant death at your hand. In hindsight, capital punishment for kittens might not be such a bad idea...yes yes, cats don't have no stinking constitutional rights, so they are not guaranteed the right to life. Cotton, Raime and Bandit and merely inferior beings. Pet cats!
Today, the cats have exclusively become part of your property (again) - their protection should be left in your hands. If they were my cats, they'd all be dead in similar fashion to the suggestive nature of the spaghetti sauce commercial. Unless I can find some other clever way of riding myself of this problem...
Early this morning, I thought I smelled something a little funny. This is about 2AM in the morning. Wasn't sure about it, so I didn't go on a scouting mission to determine the source of the foul odor. I wasn't up for any detective work. That was a mistake.
When I finally decided to pull my aging body out of bed, I did so in the usual fashion. Drag one leg across the bed, find the ground, and make the other leg follow suit. I made my way to the master bathroom, taking notice that Cotton was following me - he was scratching at the bathmat - I figured he might be hungry. He exits the bathroom upon hearing the flush of the toilet. Simultaneously, the telephone rings. After the brief phone call which took place in the kitchen, I decide I have nothing better to do than sleep. So, I head back to the bedroom and get into bed in similar but opposite fashion to how I exit. Now, as I did this, an overwhelming sense of disgust quickly came across me, for my leg got wet as it passed over the sheets - and very quickly - my senses of smell went to full scale red alert.
Cotton didn't want food.
The puddle of piss was about 1.5 feet in diameter. Clearly he'd been holding this for some time, until his bladder could take the pressure no more. It was just "number one" but it soaked through the top 'throw' on the bed, it went through the duvet cover and the entire center portion of the duvet. Furthermore, it soaked into the sheet covering the bed, and right into the very bottom white linen on the bed. It didn't appear to have absorbed into the bed matress itself, but the interest it was sparking in the other cats suggests the smell is definitely present.
This represents three full loads of laundry - and I have developed empathy for the process of washing and drying the bedsheets. This washing - is necessary - Cotton's urine is potent.
I hastily decided to run downstairs with the sheets in my hand to quickly wash the stench away. Descending the stairway I find myself looking directly upon a rather heaping pile of crap at the bottom of the steps. I've elected to call this piece of evidence "number two". Mostly because I have still retained a sense of humor. The evidence labelled number two was ginormous! I mean, it was a *HEAP* o'crap. The stench filled the entire landing. *HOW* I wondered, could this pile of shit produce that much stench?
I continue past the object of offense and proceeded onward to the laundry room. I make an observation - the door to the cat's bathroom is shut tight. The window in their room was open, and with all the wind last night, some funky kind of pressure system has forced the door to slam shut. Thus locking our three cats from their luxurious 10' x 12' bathroom with triple stalls. Unfortunately, no cats were present inside the room when the door shut. This would have been an ideal scenario - yes, they would have been trapped - *BUT* they'd have a better place to shit and piss than on the bed or on our newly installed carpet.
I proceed to correct the door problem by placing a box in front of it and toss in the first load of laundry. When I exit, I catch a glimpse of what I'm going to call exhibit "number three". I've completely lost any sense of humor now, this isn't fucking funny anymore. Unlike exhibit number one, and number two - exhibit number three offers up a combination of both. It's carefully placed beside a box, almost out of view - but certainly within the range of one's sniffer. This helps explain the overpowering stench in the landing area of the basement.
I thought I was lucky - and it turned out that was not to be the case. There is more! Yes, please contain laughter and emotions of disgust. For exhibit "number four" is far grosser than number one, two or three. In fact, it's visual appearance is like what you'd get if the members of Fear Factor came, collected samples one, two and three and mixed them together in a blender and plopped the resulting goo down on my fucking basement carpet! It is a moderately large pile of yellow brownish liquidfied crap and piss. *AND IT FUCKING STINKS*
Now, I was exceptional at math in school. I realize that with the various combinations of pleasant surprises so eloquently arranged for me this morning - this indeed represents the maximum of all three cats excrement potential. I have decided to rectify the situation - and I'm fucking mad and grossed out. I ponder what would be the quickest and most effective way to eliminate the source of this problem. In a rage of fury, I found a hammer and possess an intense desire to swing it wildly. I'm thinking this would work. But I need something else. I find a screw driver - ahh, a nice sharp but flat point. I have the tools needed to solve this from ever happening again! Strangely enough, as I head down stairs to the cats bathroom, I'm not feeling any remorse for what I am about to do. I justify in my mind that it is completely necessary to correct this unacceptable behaviour. I just can't have cats shitting all over the fucking place. But I have a dilemma, one of these cats has been mine for 15 years, I can't be extreme with him...I rationalize he's been too good for too long...it's these damn two new kittens that create most of the problems.
I locate the first of two little problems. I get everything lined up squarely with the screwdriver and then I swing the hammer with killer force - *WHACK* - it shoots into the air, does a couple of flips, bounces off the door and lands on the ground, dead still. The first problem has been eliminated. I toss it aside and quickly line up the second. With that, and no further hesitation, I place the screwdriver in the optimal position based upon the first strike (right on the base of the head), and swing the hammer visciously knowing this is the last one - *WHACK* - the second one falls to the ground and the silence is beautiful. With that, I collect the two door hinge pins I've just knocked loose and remove the door. Those cats won't be shitting all over the place any more!
Your loving Husband.