I have two children.
So Poop? I know all about it.
I have been up close and personal with exploding poop in diapers.
Melted poop in pull-ups.
Misguided poop on toilet seat rims.
Poop remnants in underpants.
Mysterious poop smells that linger long after the bleach frenzy has subsided.
The thing about raising humans is that you hold fast to the knowledge that one fine day their poop will be their business.
That day has come and gone many moons ago. Hallelujah and amen!
But don’t break out in a song and dance for me just yet. It appears the poop has returned! (Insert scary music).
My children begged me for years to let them have a pet. My son was adamant about a pet tarantula. My daughter cried out for a living teddy bear. With what feels like the weight of the world on my shoulders at times, I didn’t want to be responsible for another living, breathing, eating, pooping ANYTHING. But they wore me down. They simply wore me down.
So two weeks before Christmas, we brought home the fur ball my children named “Snickers” and I have been questioning my sanity ever since.
I recently sat my children down at the dining room table for a “Family Meeting.”
Me: “Ok you guys, it is extremely important that you do not kiss Snickers on the mouth.”
Kids: “But why Mom, he’s sooooo cute!”
Me: “Did you or did you not just see him lick his butt?”
- Silence -
My Son: “No Mom, that was actually his penis area.”
- Silence -
Me: “And licking his penis area is better?”
My Son: “It’s way less toxic than the butt area. No poop comes out of the penis.”
- Silence -
Kids: “Well can we hug him? He’s our brother – he’s your son – why won’t you kiss your son?”
Me: (Very slowly) “Please do not kiss the cat any more. Yes, you can hug Snickers. Meeting’s over.”
Ok, so here’s the situation. I could write a book on the strange and mysterious things our new kitten does in our home, but for the sake of time I’ll mention. just. one.
I’m a bit of a stickler for clean and organized round my digs. Laundry. Happens. Daily. Found lots of things in the washing machine after cleaning a load. Legos, gum wrappers, keys – but I have never found an actual “load” – until now! Cat lovers of the world – I call to you. Help. My cat pooped in my washing machine!
You probably already suspected this because you recently went to your local Walmart and was unable to find the bleach. I confess, I used all the bleach in the universe to clean and clean and clean again the tragedy that defiled my precious cleaning machine.
The cat and I – we got some work to do!