We had enjoyed the company of our barn kittens a few times before they came in from the cold permanently.
The first time was after their neutering, they toted paper plates around their necks which I nicknamed John the Baptist collars,
John the Baptist Collars
and were as good as gold not mistaking the concrete floor for a toilet, even once.
They were young and hadn’t fully developed their characters.
The next time they came inside for a few days was during Daughts’ wedding. They were having way too much fun, as free spirits outside, rushing the tulle, burrowing in the pine chips laid out for the aisle and playing hide and seek in the hay bales leaving muddy paw prints on the freshly laundered linen covers.
Although there was tulle, and burlap and a long table dressed with food,
lots of people, beds and wooden surfaces to claw,
they behaved themselves beautifully and the two Breeze litter boxes were shared without any ado.
When we finally brought them in for good something happened…to one of them…
We think it was Shadow (but never actually caught him red-pawed) pooping in Hubs’ closet.
Whenever we heard a cat scratching away at the litter box we’d sneak in to see who it was…if Shadow happened to be crouching on the pellets we lavished praise on him and gave him treats…
…even though he was only peeing at least he was using the kitty loo.
The others got treats too because…well…because they were gathered around watching!
Hubs wasn’t a happy camper.
We were inconvenienced. We had to leave our bedroom door closed, we had to leave our bathroom barn doors closed…we had to remember to do both because of the untrustworthy feline in residence.
“I’m getting tired of this…” Hubs said as he rubbed Shadow’s belly, “We need to get rid of them…”
“He could be peeing in your shoes,” I pointed out.
“He’d better not!”
Careful as we were every couple of days a load would appear on the carpet in Hubs’ closet.
“One more time and they’re gone…” he said adjusting his book so Shadow could get comfortable in his lap.
I could tell he wasn’t very serious about the eviction order and made a suggestion,
“Perhaps we need to come up with a solution, since we’re the responsible humans. Obviously there’s something about these Breeze pellets that doesn’t tickle his whiskers.”
I bought a box that used the sandy litter instead of the pellets he had been raised with.
“Maybe it has to do with getting that gritty feeling between his velvety pads.”
It worked!
In fact it has worked so well all three of them use the new box now foregoing the Breeze system altogether.
They wait patiently in line,
‘How much longer is he going to be?’
until the other exits through the door flap.
“Shadow can stay now!” said Hubs watching him peacefully asleep on the bed.
Problem solved!
For a moment there I thought I’d be able to get rid of the other boxes but cats will be cats…
they’re using them to pee in…
For now!
Well hello there! My name is Vivienne McNeny.
I am an empty nester exploring life as a Boomer…you could say I'm happily Boomering along!
As a homeschooling Mum I have finally quit the job of role model and mentor to my four children. I do what I want to do, eat when I feel like it, enjoy life with my blue eyed cowboy and clean my house once a month or so whether it needs it or not!
In true English form I write about the emergence of my true identity now that I can no longer hide behind my children as their Mum.
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