What's that smell?

I’m not sure who’s crazier in my house; my husband or my cat, but there’s a showdown brewing in crazyland.

In this corner, our somewhat nutty cat, Casino.  He seemed fairly normal in the photos and even kinda cute for the first year that we had him.  Little did we suspect that he had some kind of “problem” around his litter box.  I’m not sure if he has performance anxiety or doesn’t like people looking at him while he pees, but if anyone knows of a good cat psychologist, I’m all ears.

He used to use the bathtub for his “business” on occasion, but now he’s taken to peeing on our hardwood floor by the front door.  Not because his practically gold-leaf lined litter box isn’t clean.  It’s pristine.  All right, it’s not actually gold leaf, but at $20/box which only lasts for 2 fills, it’s the most expensive litter money can buy.

And before you tell me about my cat’s “medical problem”, let me assure you that he is quite capable of using his litter box properly and mostly did until fairly recently, when the good weather arrived.  We’ve done everything from praise him for using his box, to literally putting him in his box and “encouraging” him like his Mama never did.

The reason he pees on our hardwood floor is to register his disdain at not being allowed to be an outside cat, although frankly if he were to run away and join the circus now, I wouldn’t object.  In fact, I’d even offer him a ride because my days of starting off each and every morning cleaning up cat pee are numbered.  Cute can only get you so far.

In the other corner is my slightly nutty husband.  The same husband who laid the hardwood floor with his own blood, sweat and tears.  That’s tears, not pee.  He’s now taken to laying down a piece of vinyl the entire area of the hardwood for the cat to pee on in all his glory.  He hasn’t quite reconciled how either a) we will get the front door opened and closed with this arrangement or b) how HE will clean up the cat pee from the vinyl.

To date, we haven’t let him be an outside cat because of the neighbourhood elders complaining about cats defecating in their gardens.  Nor would we like him to be a meal for a roving raccoon.  But the aroma of “Eau du toilette” in my front hall may change my mind on this. 

As late night host Craig Ferguson says, “I look forward to your letters.”