My Fresh Hell
Life in Scribbletown.

Fecal Matters


For a while now, we’ve all, in my family unit, been discussing the possibility of getting kittens now that the feral community has disappeared. Mostly it’s a matter of timing and where in the hell we can put the litter pan. I really don’t like the idea of having indoor/outdoor cats even though what better environment for them, right? Acres and acres of pastures and forests. And ticks. And roaring semis going 60mph right outside my door. Spells doom.

I have recently discovered, though, that we don’t need any pets. We have Red. All those annoying little things about cats? You know, how they just decide to forget there is a litter pan or – ooops! – miss their target on purpose? And somebody has to clean up the mess?

I’ve had two incidents of that sort with Red in the past couple days. Last night’s was the clincher.

I think I’ve mentioned before that TWO TIMES so far Red has taken a dump in the bath. Who has had to clean this up? Moi.

On Saturday, I got her up from her nap to discover that at some point, she’d had poo, decided she wanted nothing to do with it and had taken off her diaper and thrown it out of the crib. Poo was smeared all over the sheet, her butt, other places on her body, her clothes, the floor.

It was a lovely, lovely sight and I so enjoyed cleaning it all up.

Last night, I couldn’t keep her clothed. She wanted to be naked and would have it no other way. She kept pulling down her pull-up (her clothes long gone) and sitting on her potty. She likes to sit there but hasn’t actually made a deposit in a while.

Apart from duct taping the damn thing to her body, there wasn’t much I could do about her need to be naked. Because, frankly, naked is good. In general.

Not this time. Red ran off into the family room and I chased after her.

Only to discover….first a smell hit me right in the face. It’s not a smell you ever confuse for anything else.

Then, I looked down.

Red had taken a dump behind the sofa on the rug. Of course, she wouldn’t do it on the floor which would be so much easier to clean. No. It had to be the rug. Nice.

I am really, really, really tired of scooping poo. Seriously. If I wanted to scoop up poo on a daily basis, I’d get a dog and move back to the city. And I am not a big fan of dogs.

So. That was fun. In a not-so-fun way. I really don’t know what to do with this wild animal in my house. I can only hope that soon she will be potty trained (Please, Jeebus!) and all this will be a memory – something I can use to embarrass her with when she’s in middle school: “Oh yeah, well who took a shit behind the sofa, huh? Not me, that’s for sure!”

If I ever had a small, tiny thought about having a third child (no-no-no-no!), this was the clincher. I cannot live with another toddler ever again. Red has cured me.


8:45 a.m. ::
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