Friday, August 19, 2005

f*cking cats 2: thwarting al qatta

the nefarious chippy bin laden

since my work phone doesn't really ring at this time of year, i decided to bring my laptop into my living room and do some work there. wrapped in my lightweight charcoal grey modal robe sipping expensive handrolled tea, i felt very serene. the late morning light shone through the large trees in front of the picture window, bathing the room in a pleasant pale olive hue. the yellow-green margins of my snake plants in their big copper trough glowed. the green carpeting is vacuumed, the taupe pillows are propped comfortably on my black leather couch, and jackson is snoozing happily in a nest made of a taupe chenille throw. the house smells fresh -- of candles and homemade tea tree surface cleanser -- and all seems right with the world until...

i discover more cat shit!

i have been religiously tending to the litter boxes which are now filled with what we believed to be a more acceptable clumping litter made of corn. at least once a day, i comb the corn sand, removing all clumps for flushing down the toilet. you'd think i was a greenskeeper at a golf course or at least the caretaker of zen garden. things have been going well, and regular peeks under the air conditioner have yielded no new poops. today, however, i saw the burgeoning creation of yet another crappalooza. armed with a roll of aluminum foil and scotch tape, i crafted a large crinkly blanket to place at ground zero. i read this is an efficient deterrent. we'll see about that.

while cleaning up the new mess, i imagined the three cats as a small islamic extremist cell. after all, chippy is persian. not al qaeda -- al qatta. through any means necessary, these felonious felines have been instructed to bring havoc and misery to their bourgeois american hosts. i gotta hand it to them: they are efficient machines of chaos.

my next attempt to deter operation shitstorm is a nightlight near the boxes.

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