cat poo = mat glue

i really can't wait for this construction to be over.

for those of you out there with pets, i'm sure you'll heartily agree that having animals living in your house comes with a price. having a pet means accepting ugly pet furniture into your design scheme, tripping over chew toys, and having your polish cleaning lady repeatedly tell you with great emphasis, "you hyev lot, lot, lot of cyet hyer!" living with companion animals also means contending with poop.

when not under construction, our four litter boxes reside under our stairs on our enclosed porch. it's a great location for them because you can't smell them in the rest of the house and you're not constantly dealing with errant litter pellets everywhere, only when you walk in or out of the back door. the problem with not being able to smell them is that you may forget to change them from time to time. i used to have a schedule for what days were changing days, but with both of us constantly traveling, adherance to the schedule can be slipshod -- the right-brained don't snap to grid very well. as a gentle reminder to us, jackson [also known by a multitude of other names] will leave his signature calling card -- a turd or two -- on the rubber mat placed at the back door entrance. we don't get mad. we know it's our fault, so we just kinda go, "ah, you got us. sorry, man. we're so busted."

now that the back stairs are closed off to the cats and we're down to two litter boxes in the living room, regimen has a whole new meaning. anyone entering the house is greeted by a palpable wall of stench and a light dusting of paper gravel underfoot if the litter isn't freshened with great frequency. after changing the boxes last night with fresh feline pine, i noted that the smell didn't go away entirely.

i was just about to figuratively pat us on our proverbial backs for keeping up with the steady production of noxious waste from our three cats when, after returning home from a run to my corner dunkin donuts, i notice my crate & barrel entry rug is stuck to the floor. i peel up the carpet to see a great mashed blob of extremely concentrated, raw cat shit. apparently, fatty b had followed his standard protocol, this time depositing it under my lovely tapestry, and someone had stepped on it.

i think i'll try toilet training them again this year once my effin' house is done.