It is the end of another razzle dazzle weekend at Casa Bevboy. In between mountain climbing, volunteering at that leper colony, and feeding those homeless folks down at the soup kitchen on Barrington Street, Patricia and I got caught up on some tv shows that had been piling up.
It was all about sleeping in this weekend and watching digital cable.
Newbie and Cindy enjoyed our company this weekend. Whenever they wanted some food or a cleaned-out litter box, they would send us the appropriate signals. When Newbie wants some food, he starts knocking things over until you either want to kill him or you give in and feed him something. When Cindy was a solo kitty, she would be sweet and gently nudge you with her head, or knead your naked flesh with her claws. When she wanted her litter box cleaned out, she would lead you to said litter box, look down in it, look up at you and meow but once. The message was clear. So was the implied threat. "Clean out my litter box, or the social contract between us where we agree that in return for keeping my litter box clean and that I will use said litter box for evacuating my bowels and bladder, that I will not piss or shit wherever I want, whenever I want." Needless to say, we would clean out the litter box forthwith.
Since Newbie came on board a few years ago, the dynamic has changed. Out of spite, Cindy pees and sometimes poops where she wants, ignoring that contract I discussed in the previous paragraph. We still haven't figured out if it is a cry for help or fits of pique or what. Newbie uses the litter boxes. We clean them out. But Cindy does not consistently use them. Which disappoints us.
She made great use of the rec room and my home office. That is why, several months ago, we started separating the 2 cats when we were at work; Newbie could be downstairs; and Cindy, up. Cindy hasn't been downstairs save by our mistake for several months now. At least she can no longer go down there and, uh, "go" down there. And she can't pee any more all over the floor of my home office, and in particular the carpet remnant under neat the office chair I use. Do I need to tell you how I discovered that little spot of hers? I hope not.
This whole behaviour has been frustrating for us. Short of putting her down, which we would never do, can anyone reading this offer words of support or suggestions for overcoming this problem? Please? Thanks.
Time for bed. See you tomorrow.
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