There are many things I could write about this morning: my cruise to Alaska, getting ready for the next school year, etc. But I have poo on the brain (and in my yard), so, Dear Readers (all 2 or 3 of you), that is what I’m going to write about.
Because I live alone, a number of people have suggested at various points that I get a pet for companionship and/or protection. While this is a reasonable suggestion and even, at times, an appealing one, I have never acted on this advice. The biggest reason is simply that I have allergies, and no amount of companionship and protection is worth the daily sneezing, watery eyes, and congestion I would have to suffer. My more persistent friends respond to this by pointing out that there are types of dogs that are less allergenic than others and even hairless cats (hideous things that they are). Well, okay, yes. If I’m honest, allergies are not the only issue. As I put it to one friend, dogs are too jumpy, licky, and poopy for me. I like other people’s dogs just fine—I just don’t want one of my own. Cats don’t have the same needs and energy that dogs do, but there are still the issues of the litterbox and my strong inclination never to have to deal with another creature’s feces on a regular basis. Mind you, I have changed many a dirty (and full) diaper over the years without any kind of squeamishness whatsoever, but, for whatever strange and neurotic reason, that’s just in a different category for me.
So, for the past several years, I’ve lived in my house and been able to travel at whim in a clean, orderly, and hassle-free manner, and it’s been great. Recently, however, my ordered peace has been shattered by regularly deposited piles of poo in my front and back yards. It started earlier this month in the back yard, which some cat apparently designated as a great location to do his business. I ignored the problem initially, which was easy enough as I left town for a vacation. But last week I decided enough was enough, and I found myself in the back yard, heavily gloved, with an inside-out plastic Target bag doing what I had sworn I would never do—picking up animal poo. And like magic (evil, animal magic), the poo just keeps coming back—in exactly the same spots. A couple mornings ago, I went out my front door for my morning walk only to discover a new deposit right by the front walkway. Either this cat was eating some serious fiber or I now had two cats pooping on my lawn—one in front, one in the back--perhaps engaged in some kind of contest for poo dominance. I got rid of that as well, only to see a fresh batch when I opened my door this morning.
What can I do about it? Absolutely nothing. There is no way to seal my yard off from cats, and as far as I know there is no such thing as a cat repellent that I can spray on my yard (is there? hmmm…maybe I’ll have to do some internet research). I have to either just leave the poo out there (gross) or pick it up on a regular basis (also gross). And all of this without the benefits of companionship and cuddling. It’s poo without the perks.
So, life lesson learned: no matter how carefully you plan and regulate your life, some cat can still sneak in and crap in your yard.
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1 comment:
We have two dogs, so I make it a daily habit to pick up the poo. But, I swear, there is no way two dogs can produce THAT much waste in a single day. I think the neighborhood cats have a little pooper party in our backyard every night. Or, who knows? Maybe it's opposums or racoons.
I'm feeling your pain, sister.
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