Yuck Cats

This morning, as is sometimes the case on Wednesdays, Rob got up with Olive and let me sleep in a bit longer. Yesterday she and I rose in the 5 o'clock hour to do a morning at the Khoreys'. When we got home around 10 am, I planned to take a nap myself once she'd gone to sleep; she was out like a trout after fifteen minutes of feeding and I laid down but before I could fall asleep there was a knock at the door. It was our house's handyman with a box of plastic to put over our windows for insulation. I explained to him that we had long since put plastic over our windows and the room was still an ice box. That said, we didn't get the apartment that we saw last week; that's what I get for not acting immediately. I should have known that that place wouldn't be available for long. So anyway, my much hoped-for nap was thwarted and I made up for it by retiring before 9 last night. Olive was up pretty often, and when she woke up at 7 I wasn't at all ready to begin my day. During my sporadic sleep I could glean that unusual happenings were afoot, as Rob was coming in and out of the bedroom for changes of clothes for Olive, a wash cloth, diaper-changing materials, and the like. Here's the story, and this is why our cats may or may not be going up for adoption later in the day:

Rob picked up on an unpleasant familiar litter box odor. He noticed that the bathroom door (where litter box is housed) was closed and the cats were seating on the windowsill. He noticed that Olive's face was dotted with brown, and her hands were, too. He checked her diaper (even though she was wearing footed pyjamas, making a diaper dig virtually impossible, then spotted the small pile near the bathroom door that Olive had beat him to discover. An Eric Carle book that my aunt Holly had given Olive this summer had to be thrown away, it's pages soiled with feline fecal matter. He put her in the tub (for the third time in under a week!) and scrubbed her down - even the inside of her mouth (undoubtedly some of the foul stuff found its way into her curious craw). I just hope she doesn't come down with a bacterial infection because of this. Cats and their waste are totally disgusting. I've always had cats, and always liked them until I had Olive. I've tolerated their presence, at best, these last 9 months, but when things like this happen I have to seriously consider the benefit of having them around. Yes, Olive is amused by them (I'm waiting for the day that Che's patience runs out and she hauls off and swipes Olive's grabby hands). And yes, we occasionally allow ourselves the warped amusement of tying a plastic bag to Wendell and watching him go tearing about like an animal possessed. But then I experience twinges of jealousy every time I enter the Khoreys' or my sister's pet-free homes; their cleanliness and lack of odor and littery crunch underfoot taunts me: See? This is what a house without cats is like... But they're my pets. I've had them both since they were babes (Che for seven years and Wendell for two and a half). Wendell is my miracle cat because he was at death's door for a while two years ago and somehow he rallied and is still here, and still a funny Gray...but they're gross. If we didn't live in the city I'd let them out like I did in Maine. I just can't handle another one of this morning's episodes. It was a good thing Rob was taking care of things because that might have been the first and last time for me.

Any takers?