Continued Adventures In Cat-Butt

Umm....there is really no delicate way to put this: My cat has diarrhea.

Have you ever walked in on something like that? Yikeys!

First it was the smell. As I opened the door, a wave of stench hit me like a bread truck going 90mph. No question as to the source. When you are catching even a whiff of that much cat crap, there is no doubt. The brain does not go, "Hmm, is that poo I smell?". Oh, you know.

I half expected the cat to be dead. A visual flashed across my mind of her getting up to use the litter box when her little cat guts lurch (you know, the 30 second heads-up lurch). Then suddenly, she just explodes from behind and is actually propelled around the room like a balloon losing air, spraying my whole house with liquid poo in the process.

Not the case. As I am staving of dry heaves, she meets me at the door meowing and looking absolutely fine. Not at all bothered by the smell I might add, thus proving the theory "whoever smelt it first, dealt it"

I have to go in there. I have to go in the bathroom where the litter box is kept. There is no way around it. How bad will it be? Where is a damn Hazmat suit when you need it?!

So I gear up with gloves, a dish towel wrapped around my nose/mouth, goggles, and a fly swatter (to use as a slotted spatula, of course). Alright, alright -- I didn't use the goggles or fly swatter, but go visual -- it's pretty damn funny, right?

So, I put my head down and go in. It's bad. Real bad. The thought crosses my mind that it might be better if I just demolish this bathroom and start over. We are in a recession though, so I flip the fan on and start with paper towels and lemon scented Pine Sol.

I manage to get it all cleaned up without puking. Victory......or so I thought...

Sidenote: When you can't wipe your butt AND you have diarrhea, chances are you are going to drip. I'm sorry. Simple facts here.

I point this out because my cat dripped. As I walked out of the bathroom and took a deep, relief filled breath, I see them. Out the door and across part of the living room is a series of little brown reminders of the carnage that took place in the room behind me. They are reminiscent (in a demented, fecal way) of Hansel and Gretel's breadcrumb trail. Even if I am wiping out the cat's way back to the litter box, these have to go. More Pine Sol.

It would be wrong to seal the cat with Wacky Glue so I don't have to go through that again, right?

Can you believe people who write this kind of crap -- about crap – yuck!