I have 3 cats and keep 2 litter pans going with scoopable litter. I scoop every day and sometimes twice a day.

Sheba has impeccable potty habits. Sometimes she will even cover up what the boys leave. Djoser seldom digs in the litter: he is too fastidious to get his paws in the muck. He does his business, then scratches the edges of the pan or the wall.

Unfortunately, the uncovered solids elicit a response from my son's room, which is downhill. (Heavy molecules flow downhill like water.) "Mom, that cat has been at it again!" He would rather suffer for awhile than go in and quickly cover it himself.

Amber is really good at digging a hole in the middle of the litter. Then he climbs into the pan and carefully places his *front* feet in the hole. That means his nether regions are suspended over the edge of the pan. Since he is frequently on Laxatone and Hairball remedy, his bowels are rather loose. Then he tries to cover it up by raking all the litter out of the pan. Somehow, the mess outside the pan gets missed. But when the aroma is really powerful, he won't cover it at all. I call it "hit and run".

Early one morning, he did a "hit and run". But he didn't realize that his fluffy tail had swished through the muck on the floor. I was really glad it had dried before he came to the bed to wake me up. So, after fixing my coffee pot and feeding the cats, I filled the sink with warm soapy water, since I knew it would have to soak to come off. I also covered the mess with litter to solidify for awhile (easier to clean up).

I held Amber on the edge of the sink and talked and petted him. He didn't know his tail was floating on the surface of the water. My left hand was around him scritching his neck and my right hand was rubbing the muck off in the water. I thought to myself, "Gee, this is going really well." About then, the water penetrated the underfur to his skin. *His Tail Was Wet!*

Then ensued the wildest 20 seconds I've had in a long time. Scritching was forgotten as my left arm frantically tried to hold him in place while my right hand tried to keep his whipping tail in the water and where was the towel I had forgotten about!

A longhaired tail can swish a lot of water in a few seconds so I grabbed the only towel in sight: my son's big bath towel. I managed to get it wrapped around him and my right arm which he was now clinging to. I don't remember him switching arms. But his tail was hanging out and still swishing water everywhere. I managed to get it under control and semi-dry in the few seconds I had while he was climbing out the top of the towel, using my bare arm as a scratching post. He popped out of the towel like a greased pig and disappeared into his black hole somewhere in the bedroom.

I was left gasping for breath as I cleaned up the mess, including my bloodied arms and wet nightgown.

Copyright © Catherine Jo Sadler
March 8, 2001