Last week I was at Sam’s (and in fact, I’ll be leaving to go to Sam’s in a few minutes, because I forgot a few things last week, and I need to get out of the house), and I was in line behind this woman who was buying two huge-ass boxes of adult diapers.
I realized a moment later that I was eyeballing her behind to see if she was actually wearing adult diapers (I couldn’t tell).
Tell me you’d do that too. You would, right? Not that I was JUDGING (I figure I’m about 18 months away from adult diapers myself), I was just curious. Nosy, I guess.
DON’T JUDGE ME.
There’s a lot of poop talk in this section. Skip it if you’re eating or have a weak stomach.
I know that I’ve mentioned before that the air flow in our house is kind of weird. Like, if a cat pees near the fireplace in the front room, you tend to not smell it when you’re in the front room, but you can totally smell it in the guest bedroom doorway. This makes for a SUPER-fun game of “I SMELL CAT PEE DO YOU SMELL CAT PEE? CAT PEE CAT PEE, WHERE THE FUCK’S THE CAT PEE?”, where we walk around, sniffing wildly. Of course, if it’s dark or near dark, I can wander around with the black light and sometimes I find the offending pee and sometimes I don’t and I lose my mind.
Anyway, the air flow upstairs is odd also. At the end of the hallway is Fred’s room, and then next to his room is mine, which is across the hallway and down a little from the bathroom. The doorway to the bathroom and the doorway to my bedroom are nowhere near each other, and there are two litter boxes in the nook in my bathroom.
Every fucking time a cat goes into the bathroom and uses the litter box, the smell somehow ends up hovering over the head of my bed. The stink goes OUT of the litter box (stink, like heat, rises. In case you were wondering. Actually, more like bread dough. It’s like a big loaf of stink, rising and expanding to fill all available space.), around the corner into the hallway, DOWN the hallway, and then through the doorway into my room, across the room, then hovers malevolently there until I chase it out with air freshener.
More than once I’ve woken in the middle of the night, positive that a cat has taken a great big dump on the pillow next to me. I’ve gotten up, turned on the light, looked all over the room, and ended up tracking the smell down the hall to the litter box. Last night, when I went upstairs at bedtime, Fred was peering under the bed, looking for the source of the smell. I had to clue him in that the smell had traveled over a great distance to torture us.
It is, as I’m sure you can imagine, DELIGHTFUL.
Last night, Fred and I came in from putting the chickens to bed (you’re imagining us tucking them into little beds, aren’t you? No, we just close up the blue coop, then go to the back forty to give the dogs their evening snack, hang out with them for a little while, and then check out the garden), and as I walked through the back door, I saw that Sugarbutt was in one of the litter boxes.
Now, I don’t much care for having to look at cat poop, but it is my unfortunate duty as the caretaker of what feels like a thousand cats to make sure that no one’s got anything untoward going on in the poop category. “Untoward” meaning diarrhea, blood, obvious worms, anything along those lines.
So when I walked through the door and saw Sugarbutt in the litter box, I thought “Oh good, I can see if all is well.”
(When I was 10 years old and thinking about becoming a vet (idea discarded due to the amount of schoolin’ involved), I had no idea the amount of time I’d spend peering at poop or how JOYFUL I’d be at the sight of a well-formed poop. For the record.)
By the time I got my boots off and got to the litter box, Sugarbutt had vamoosed. I headed for a look anyway, and was about a foot from the litter box when I thought “Oh, I guess he was just peeing, I don’t smell -”
Then the smell hit me in the face. You know how in Alien, that face-hugger flies out of nowhere to attach itself to peoples’ faces and implants an embryo in their chest? It was like that. It was like a living thing. The smell was so thick that I could TASTE IT. I’d say that Sugarbutt’s digestive system must detour through the gates of Hell, but I’m pretty sure that the smell of fire and brimstone would be a more soothing and pleasant odor.
“AGH!” I howled, and covered my mouth and nose with my hand. Which is like closing the barn door after the horse has gotten out, I know, but it was a reflex.
In the kitchen, Fred turned and looked at me. He gave me a sympathetic smile. “Sugarbutt?”
“GOD JESUS YES I THINK I’M DYING,” I yelled.
He laughed.
On the up side, Sugarbutt’s poop, as I determined after leaning down and peering into the litter box, was perfectly fine.
Except for the smell.
Fred is determined to torture me with crappy movies lately, it appears. First, over the weekend we watched Every Which Way But Loose, and then on Tuesday we started the sequel, Any Which Way You Can. He read somewhere that the sequel was better than the original, and since he didn’t think the original was all that bad, he put the sequel at the top of the Netflix list.
(I rue the day I ever gave him the Netflix password.)
As soon as the movie started, I said “That’s not the same Clyde, is it?” Clyde being the orangutan who plays Clint Eastwood’s sidekick.
“You don’t think so?” Fred said.
“He’s not orange enough, and he doesn’t have that potbellied old-man walk the first Clyde did.”
After about ten minutes, I said “He lacks the subtle charm of the original Clyde.” Seriously, Clyde v2 was all about the Bronx cheers and the shitting in cruisers and big over-acted kissing. (And Wikipedia tells me I’m right about it not being the same orangutan.)
After another ten minutes, I said “Sondra Locke lacks the subtle charm of a MACK TRUCK.” Honest to god, I don’t know that I’ve ever seen Sondra Locke in anything else, but in the Every Which Way movies, she overacts horribly and appears to be doing a really really bad Marilyn Monroe impression.
I suffered through Sondra Locke singing (GIVE that woman some Auto-Tune!) and then gave up and read magazines for the rest of the evening.
All four in one picture! Too bad they’re not looking anywhere near the camera.
Going…
Going…
Gone! Zzzzzzz….
Pretty Rhyme.
“Mooooooom! The couch is eating kittens again!!!”
Previously
2009: In self-defense, I had to do the unthinkable.
2008: Here’s a hint: Mister Boogers? Not the man.
2007: No entry.
2006: No entry.
2005: Oh, it’s FUN to be a girl, ain’t it?
2004: Am I not stylin’?
2003: Like I repeatedly said to him yesterday, “I’m GLAD you’re ENJOYING my pain!”
2002: Momma don’t do food-related or cleaning-related stuff on Mother’s Day!
2001: No entry.
2000: No entry.
Today’s entry could not be more relevant.
I went to greet the new kittens/cats yesterday (I think the SPCA fooled us and called them kittens, but no WAY does kitten poo smell so bad – plus the vet thinks they are officially full grown) – but holy mother of g0d – the smell in the staircase and every upstairs room was horrid.
All because unnamed boy cat pooped. And I KNOW it was him because I had the horrifying “privilege” of taking a sample into the vet a couple of days ago, and that crap could still be smelled even though I triple bagged it in ziplocs. THREE ziplocs and it was still noticeable. Even the vet said, “excuse me, I will set this in the back.”
Plus, girl cat has ensured me that her #2 smells like rose petals.
Now THAT is some smell that can do some damage, isn’t it, Gina? 🙂
Argh, cat poop…bad. Best solution DH worked out for me years ago was to screen in a small porch off the house. My two cats stay out there most of the day, come in at night. Now it’s a sunporch but with lots of windows I keep open. The litter is out there, with cat-door access into the house. SO much better than having litter anywhere in the house. If you ever get the option to create a very small screened area connected to the house, it’s a great solution. All the scent goes out the screen and fresh air is always circulating. (I realize it’s not an option right now, but at some point I’m sure Fred could do that easily and that way it wouldn’t cost much.)
DH used to torture me with western movies; I swear he’d seen them ALL thousands of times. I mean, I like to see a good movie again a few times, or occasionally, but he could watch Jeremiah (sp) Johnson and The Outlaw Josie Wales every night.
I LOVE this idea, Cara. I’ve been agitating for Fred to build me a covered porch off the back door so we could put our boots and shoes out there, and not drag all the dirt inside with us, but I LOVE the idea of a screened porch for the litter boxes. I may have to start agitating in THAT direction. 🙂
Hey, if you decide to go with a small screen porch/area, be sure to get the pet screen at Lowe’s. May have it at Pet Depot, not sure. Anyway, cats can climb it and DO NO DAMAGE to the screen. It can be turned so that you can see out, but people cannot see IN from outside. Best thing ever, and costs no more than regular screen!
Last house I lived in, I had a special screen porch put in and the contractor looked shocked when I told him I wanted a screen porch for my cats. He said, “Lady those cats will climb that screen and ruin it.” Then I told him about the pet screen, and once it was installed, he was a believer!
I’m not sure it’s called Pet Screen at Lowe’s, will have to look next time I’m there.
haha ha haHA! My not-quite-skimming eyes saw:
“Last night, when I went upstairs at bedtime, Fred was peering under the bed”
and my brain wondered why the hell Fred was PEEing under the bed. C’mon Fred, you’re better than that. 😉 (Slow down, Jean, slow down…)
When Fred pees under the bed, I just shoot at him with the compressed air and he runs off with his ears back. 😛
I’m so glad I’m not the only one that does the “poop watch” when I catch a cat in the litterbox. You have to do that, because if you start finding abnormal poop, it’s almost impossible to track down the cat responsible when you have so many! It’s gross, but better than worrying about who is sick.
Kal-el, the big black fluffy cat we brought in about a year ago, has the equivalent of kitty IBS, which creates FOUL litterboxes. Hell probably smells just like those boxes. We have to give him a daily pill that at least firms it up. It doesn’t help the smell, unfortunately, but at least it doesn’t look like something exploded in the box (you’re welcome for that visual ;).
Oh, I’ve seen that sight before – not often, and not lately, THANK GOD.
My mom had a cat named Tinker. My nephews nicknamed him Stinker. Do I need to say more? OMG the stink! Since Tinker, my cat’s poo does not bother me a bit because I’ve smelt much worse. Ha Ha! I also have a tough noise. It cannot handle air freshners – I’m allergic. It’s either smell it or sneeze. I hate sneezing.
Val
Robyn: I was bored so I started reading your posts from years back. On this date in 2003 you posted the following:
“The best part of the zoo, my friends, were the baby pygmy goats. My god in heaven, they were the most adorable things I’ve ever seen. Seriously, I was this close to snatching one up and tossing it in the Jeep. I said to Fred “Someday, if we have a house on enough land, promise me we’ll get some pygmy goats!” He wouldn’t, though, damn him.”
Now that you have Crooked Acres I was just wondering where those psygmy goats are???
Maggie, shhhhh. I was young and stupid back then. 🙂
Okay, I am owned by ten cats. It’s a work hazard from being an employee at an animal shelter. Anyway, I have an orange feline, inappropriately named Blossom. Now I’m wondering…do orange cats make stinkier stinks?
Maybe! I’m going to put up this comment in my entry tomorrow, so we can get to the bottom of this, Cindy! 🙂
Yes but the cat poop stories are the funniest!!! You have to read them even with a weak stomach but I guess it could wait until after a meal. I’m a nurse and we also take an inordinate interest in the results of people’s digestive tracts.
Sondra Locke was in The Heart is a Lonely Hunter. It was my absolutely favorite movie for a long time. I saw it at the theatre in 1968 when it first was released. It was when I was an emo teen so who knows how good it really was.
Sounds like Sugarbutt isn’t living up to his name. 🙂
I didn’t know how lucky we were that the poop of our three cats didn’t stinrk while they were on the Sensible Choice cat food. Well, they no longer make it and we had to switch to another brand. OMG, the stink!!! We are down to two cats now, one of which doesn’t use the litter box and does his business outside. But from the stink of the other one, you would think we had ten cats.
I can only think that Sondra Locke was in all those Clint Eastwood movies because she was his girlfriend back in the day. It couldn’t have been for her amazing acting abilities, especially in Bronco Billy – I’ve only seen the commercials for it, but every time she says “Ah luhv yoo Bronco Billah” I could just smack her. And they really should give The Outlaw Josie Wales it’s own cable channel since it seems to be on CONSTANTLY here!!
Also – I would have totally checked for the telltale signs of an adult diaper on that poor woman. How could you not?? 🙂 🙂
Dang, and I thought the smell from three cats pooing was bad… 😀
I have accused my KIDS of pooping in the litter boxes because of both the stink and the size. They deny involvement.
The other night the man was sitting right next to me on the sofa, showing me how to do something on my laptop. Spike jumped up beside him, climbed over his lap, & then over mine, so he could take his preferred place on the sofa. As he was climbing over me, the man shouted, “Ewwww! There’s a turd hanging out of Spike’s butt!” Well, poop doesn’t make me squeamish, thanks to 5 years of working at a day care. I said, “well, for pete’s sake, get me a tissue!” He jumped up, got me one, & I wiped Spike’s butt, while the man squealed like a little school girl. I tried to give him the tissue (evil!), but of course he ran upstairs. As I got up to flush the tissue, I heard the man pacing around the upstairs, retching. I’m fairly sure if we had children, he’s buy a gas mask.
I love love LOVE Clint Eastwood and his movies. Sondra Locke, however, shouldn’t be on film.