This morning, as I was lying peacefully asulmber in bed, one of the ferocious felines invited himself to join me. This doesn’t usually go so well for Dingo. But, since I was tired, and he was treading lightly, I decided to give him a chance. He tip-toed gingerly from the foot of the bed to my belly and snuggled in gently. He didn’t get in my face, try to steal my breath, or snatch my soul like I am convinced they usually do. Bingo is the worst offender, really. So, I reached down to scratch his chin and make peace with my mortal enemy. He purred and snuggled and stretched gracefully in the way that only cats can. Is this a breakthrough moment, I wonder? It’s only been four months of co-habitation with these vile creatures. I guess it’s about time we make peace. And also, he could be paying his penance for darting out the door as I ran out to the car to grab something in the dark of the night yesterday. Deciding it was warm enough for him to sleep outside, I opted not to chase him down, and just went to bed myself. Tough love, I call that. So, here we are at this breakthrough moment. I’m taking cues from my son’s cat and lazing around in bed for a few more minutes. Stretching and bracing myself for the day ahead.
When I finally do roll out of bed, it turns out to be a remarkably sunny spring day. Albeit barely above freezing. So, I brew a pot of coffee, bundle up, and make my way to the front porch where the sun can cast a morning glow on my fresh face. My new friend is keeping me company–no doubt ready to jump in my lap the moment I sit down.
Hold on. Sniff Sniff. What is that? I wonder.
“Ewwww … it smells like cat poo out here,” my daughter complains. “Gross!” her brother echoes.
Indeed. I confirm. As I see the wretched creatures slithering out from under the porch. It seems that my indoor/outdoor cats that have so successfully foregone the litter box for the great outdoors, have opted to use the sandy terrain under the front porch to do their business … rather than the acres and acres of forest surrounding us. Really?
As I see it, there is only one way to minimize this scenario. And it doesn’t include installing lattice around the bottom of my porches.
Let me know if you’re in the market for a kitten. Or two. Because I know a couple that are in need of a new home. Turns out Momma’s allergic to them after all.