I finished up the final week of cat sitting yesterday. It was an interesting adventure. Here are my notes from Tuesday and Thursday:
May 11, 2010
I took care of everything for Angel. She's insatiable when it comes to getting brushed. She was acting really sweet and purring. But the second I excused myself to the restroom, she ran off and hid under the couch.
As I approached the bathroom entrance, stink attacked my senses. It smelled like a construction site Port-O-Let. After some gagging and swearing, I found a half-dozen turds lazing in your bathtub. Needless to say, I cleaned up the mess then confronted Angel.
"What's up with the poop in the tub?" I asked.
"What poop?" Her tail thumped a beat on the ground under the sofa. "I don't know what you're talking about."
"The turds I just cleaned out of the bathtub. That's nasty."
"Oh, the poop in the tub. That was J. She always poops in the tub."
We went back and forth like that for a few minutes until she finally confessed. I think your cat has some issues.
She also told me a gang of possums had been casing the joint. She said they were all inked up and wearing bandannas and their leader carried a switchblade. Then she started crying and said she was afraid they'd come in through the garage and climb through the cat door. She said she felt vulnerable all by herself. She mentioned you've used fox urine as a deterrent in the past but you didn't have any more around the house.
So, as a favor to you and your cat, I pissed in your garage. I figure my alpha male urine is twice as potent as that of a fox.
May 13, 2010
Another turd in the tub. Seriously, you need to have a talk with your cat.
Something was off with Angel this visit. She was hiding outside when I first got here. Then, just as I was about to give up on her, she slogged through the cat door. She collapsed on the floor, licking her paw and rubbing tears from her eyes.
"What's wrong? J will be back in a couple days."
"Looks like something to me."
"We're friends. I'm not crazy about the tub-shitting, but I like you. You can tell me."
"You know I'm adopted, right?"
"I know. Nothing wrong with that."
"Yeah, but I don't understand why J calls me a she and insists that everyone else do the same. I'm a boy cat." He raised up on his hind legs and pointed to his junk. "See? I'm a boy. I'm just so confused."
"You mean J is pushing some weird gender confusion thing on you. Like she really wanted a girl, so she's trying to force you into that role?"
"And you don't like it?"
"Hell no. I'm not some trannie-cat," he said before adding, "Not that there's anything wrong with that."
J, there's a place for people who do twisted things like this to their pets: Jerry Springer.
I hope you'll rethink your evil ways.