Tuesday, September 27, 2005

if it isn't the people its the damn cats

Last year we were having a problem with rats and mice coming in the innumerable holes on the ship. I'd had enough one day when I had to kill a rat by whacking a stick across the back of its shoulders in our bedroom no less. They started calling me the Rat Slayer.I didn't want poision about and traps are a pain because no one was vigilant about setting them. The vermin were avoiding them and getting the bait anyway so, the responsiblity of a pet seemed less daunting. I was looking at the SPCA site and Buy and Sell for people giving away a (note singular) beast. "Honey," the kids have cats (note two) at their Grandmother's in Alberta (she raises and breeds Bengals)." A suggestion as this is as good as saying, "OK, arrange to have the cats come out, fine by me."

The border on feral really and they are sketchy as hell. We have had them for almost a year now. They don't like change and when something changes, Ariel, (mother to Zaboomafloo, male), makes her displeasure known by peeing or taking a crap somewhere. It is beyond rediculous actually. I had cats growing up and they were at least sociable let alone certainly didn't crap in the house. EVER. She has no compunction about taking a pee right in front of you.

Last night I started to clean up the excess foam insulation that we scraped off the evening before in a new room we are trying to rent. I walk in and it is rank with cat shit and pee. And over in the corner hidden under a pile of foam shards is a pile of cat poo. After sweeping up the room of foamy bits and scooping up the poo, I attacked it with Windex and then two bouts of Natures Miracle. Thankfully this morning it smells much better and as long as the door stays closed...

Now it turns out in Greig's mind that I "arbitrarily arranged to have Marion bring out the cats, really without his consent, and that setting traps was less hassel than the responsibility of pet ownership, and that he doesn't mind the smell so much." What CRAP...how short his memory is of Ariel peeing on HIS pillow after he shoved her face in a pile of her poo and covered her chin royally. She knew which pillow was his to pee on.

Its a wonder I am not more insane than I clearly am.

Its Ariel who does the destruction - as many of us witness it innumerable times. Think its time for her to go swimming or back to Grandma...In the meantime...its kitty valium in the kibble.

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

oh yeah... Ariel..Latin for owl food