Life Imitates Blog

I need to digress before I even start this post in order to recognize two points:

1.  1. People who only tell stories about their pets are inherently socially awkward individuals capable only of interacting with domesticated animals rather than actual humans (Please refer to Post 3 – Man vs Wild, below). Lacking sufficient human interaction myself as of late, I recognize I’m dangerously close to becoming that person, but sometimes my cat just does some crazy-ass stuff and I have to talk about it.

2.  2. Obviously the blog is full of exaggerated storytelling, but I can vouch that every bit is at least based in truth. Therefore, it’s worth noting that the following is all truth, with no exaggeration.

I’m pretty sure the cat has been reading the blog, and he’s not happy about what he’s seen. In fact, he’s downright pissed.

The other night I woke up to find an actual cat turd lying next to my face. “Turd” may be an exaggeration denoting a full baby-carrot sized piece of cat shit when in actuality it was more of a cat dingle-berry, the size of a pencil eraser. Regardless, it doesn’t fucking matter because at 5 AM there’s no sense in splitting hairs over its size when there’s a piece of shit two inches from your nose.

The cat was calmly curled up at my feet, but the look on his face said everything.

Apparently not pleased enough with himself after that act, he upped the ante this morning. Once again I woke up to the smell of shit, but this time there was an actual cat anus in my face. He was gone before I could grab him, but the smell lingered, so I knew he’d done the big business in the liter box again and I wasn’t let down.

Setting there in the liter box, completely uncovered like a little gift from heaven, was the biggest pile of kitty diarrhea I’ve ever seen.  The only way I can describe it is like going to TCBY and ordering an extra large serving of the camouflage yogurt.

I had to roll it around the box several times like a litter snowball just to get it solid enough to scoop out.

Laying in bed, trying to go back to sleep, still tasting the smell in the back of my throat, I heard him digging around in the litter box again and I thought, “there’s no fucking way.” But where there’s a will, there’s a way, and he squirted out another serving. I think I actually looked around for the hidden camera because this stuff just doesn’t happen.

The only other thing I can leave you with is the image of me, at 5 AM, holding the cat upside down by his hind legs, trying to clean the matted shit out of the fur around his ass… twice.

Then picture my lovely wife, silently curled up in the bed, sleeping soundly, oblivious to anything I’d just been dealing with, no doubt dreaming about sending a tiny camera up someone’s rectum in a few hours.