Free To A Bad Home: 1 Cat.

A chisel, a bottle of bleech, my shop vac and some plastic sheeting.

It's time to clean some cat poo.

The cat's litter box is on the landing of the basement stairs. It doesn't really matter where it really is at because she doesn't care. Evil things usually don't. Here's a joke for you. Knock knock. Who's there. Cat shit. Cat shit who? Cat shit all over my basement stairs because she hates all that is good.

She does this because she wants to drive me insane. She intentionally refuses to use her litter box because her precious little feelings get hurt because I bought the cheap cat food. I figured why not, she is just puking it up in the middle of the hallway anyway. Why buy the good stuff?

She does this because it is much eaiser to sit right next to the cat box and take a crap than take that extra step to actually go inside the cat box. She's evil and lazy, a perfect storm of vindictiveness.

She does this because she is a performance artist. This particular piece is called "I shit all over your shit."

She does this because she is a cat and therefore is much more refined than the dogs that have to go outside. God forbid she actually ever go outside, she might actually get her fragile little feetie wet.

Stupid cat.

She does this because she likes to see what happens when I haven't gone down in the basement for a week and now all the poop is hard and stuck to the floor. I'll tell you what happens. I have to grab a chisel to pry it loose. I'm getting good at it though. Now I duck tape the chisel to the end of my shop vac so as I pry I can suck it back up. Even degrading jobs can be fun! I love you Mary Poppins. I would get a spoonful of sugar as well but the cat probably shit in that too.

She does this because this is by far the worst job I have ever had to do as a stay at home dad and she enjoys seeing me humiliated. But at least the minions helped. Little Hoss heard me say a few very choice words and ran over. She said "Oh no dad, Whorelly pooped again."

"Yup" I said

"I know! I'll help!"


Maybe she really will help. Hold the bleach or something. At the very least she could go find a hammer and take the cat outside. I think it's about time I showed her the movie Old Yeller. However, Little Hoss' idea of helping was going to get her magic wand out of her toy box. It's got a star on top. While I'm scrapping away cat shit like it's barnacles on a boat, she is saying "Abracadabra" and then making swishing sounds with her mouth. Halfway through she thinks that she has "magicked" away half the cat crap.

"Am I doing a good job daddy?"

"The best honey."

At least she is here. The cat is probably upstairs taking dump on the comforter for the 3rd time this week because she can't take a dump on the stairs right now. Seriously, I hate her.

"Daddy I pooped!" Bubba Hoss says at the top of the stairs.

"I know honey, the cat pooped. We've been over that already." I'm getting frustrated.

"No daddy! IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII pooped!" he says. When he thinks I'm being stupid he elongates his words and yells them at me. So now I'm cleaning cat crap and being disrespected by my son while my little girl continues to say Abracadabra but now she is hitting me on the head with the wand. It is making me work faster though.

I change Bubba Hoss because I already had my gloves on. I briefly consider taking the diaper to the cat and smearing all over her and asking her how she likes it. However, I am terrified of the retribution that would come my way because of this action. I fear that one night I would wake up and my eyes would open to a little kittie butthole perfectly poised over my forehead. I wouldn't put it past her.

The crap is finally cleaned up. Now I am actually laying down plastic sheeting on the landing of the stairs. I will not do this again. The plan is to cover the entire area with taped down plastic to at least assist in the cleanup. I could also use it to hide her body in later when I finally get over my guilt and get rid of her. It takes an additional 30 minutes to put the plastic down and tape up the corners. I have gone to extremes to control this with my cat. I actually built a screen door at the bottom of the basement stairs to keep her out of there. A month ago I had to use a powerwasher to clean the basement from the damage she did there. The cat box was clean, the unfinished basement was a cesspool. My stairs now look like I've been cleaning asbestos or I'm keeping ET down there.

"All done daddy?" Little Hoss says.


"Abracadabra" she says for the millionth time.

"How are you at making things disappear?"

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