Thinking it Through

Litter Box Woes

If my cats were basketball players, they would be John Stockton and Shaq. They're both great players, but the size differential is clear. Boomer weighs 11 pounds soaking wet, and when he's feeling particularly proud, he might be about 13 inches from the tip of his nose to the base of his tale.

Then there is Scooter Pie, aka big boy. He weighs about 19 pounds and runs about 22 inches from his head to the base of his tail. Oh that tail. He carries it high and it is at least a foot long--I kid you not. They get along well, and we love them. They pretty much run the house, and we let them. And for the last 7 yrs, they've brought us love, laughter, and companionship.

The only thing I don't love about cats is litter boxes. But, because I prefer my cats to live inside, I deal. Several years ago I bought what I thought was a great top-loading litter box. It was deep and wide and cats had to enter through a hole in the cover. The cover was not to their liking--the shit all over it--but once I got the message and took it off, we were a happy household.

We lived in litter box bliss for several years until this past summer when one of them began shitting outside the box. I thought it was Scooter Pie--seemed like the sort of thing he would do. My husband scrubbed the box until it shined, and I berated Scooter Pie again and again--like that would make a difference!--but the out of the box shit continued. We cleaned it everyday for a week, and the shitting on the floor continued. I thought one of them might be sick, but they'd just been to the vet and had received a clean bill of health and they both were using the box to pee. Our frustration grew.

Then one day I caught Boomer in the act. He sauntered into the closet and shit on the floor--he didn't even try to get in the box. The clue phone rang, and I took the call: he doesn't like jumping into the box anymore. He'll do it to pee because that's messy, but shitting on the floor is a piece of cake (so to speak).

So, we bought a new box--the biggest one we could find with a cover and a door. Once again we were a happy household. Then it began: leakage. Scooter Pie is so damn big and long that, well, you get the picture. So, what to do? Mopping the tile everyday didn't really appeal to me, and there wasn't a longer litter box to be found. Then it came to me: plastic.

Today I went to Home Depot and bought a sheet of plastic cut to fit the closet floor and a little sheet to fit inside the litter box. I've scrubbed the tile, cleaned out the box, put the little sheet of plastic in the back of the box, lined the floor with plastic, and set up a little trough to catch any leakage.

I love it when a plan comes together.

Although Forgotten, Not Gone

The Bill of Rights, those handy amendments that were adopted as a package on September 25, 1789, seemed to have been forgotten during the Bush administration. So this serves as a good reminder that while forgotten, they are still with us. They continue to protect US citizens. Remember them and evoke them when needed.

These amendments are a result of the debates on the adoption of the Constitution that focused on fears that, if drafted in its original form, the Constitution would open the way to tyranny by the new government proponents sought to establish. Folks with keen memories of the British violation of civil rights--both before and during the Revolution--demanded a "bill of rights" that would clearly define the immunities of individual citizens. If I recall correctly,there were originally 12 amendments, but the first two were dropped--I think they had something to do with the number of congressional representatives.

We all need to remember and to thank those in attendance during the debates on adopting the Constitution; their work continues to serve us well.

On Today's Document from the National Archives.

Friday Cat Blogging

Here's the ever-handsome Boomer:

Smarter than a 5th Grader

I read a piece at Yahoo News today detailing a study from researchers at the Yerkes National Primate Research Center at Emory University that demonstrates "monkeys can recognize photographs of other monkeys they know . . . ." This study shows monkeys "can both detect differences in faces and figure out if they've seen them before, researchers report."

Now, this should not come as a surprise; anyone who pays close attention knows non-human animals are intelligent, communicative, and emotional. What's interesting is that we now have evidence that supports such claims. Monkeys in the study were able understand that the two-dimensional images--photographs--represent things and animals from their lives.

On the other hand, teabaggers don't understand that the Boston Tea party was about taxation without representation--not taxes themselves; birthers refuse to acknowledge that President Obama is a natural born citizen; elected Republicans think blocking legislation is somehow legislating; and Sarah Palin can see Russia from her house.

 I would rather live in a world populated by monkeys.

I'll Drink to That

http://www.archives.gov/historical-docs/todays-doc/index.html?dod-date=1205#2009

Reality Bytes

I have finally tossed in the towel and acknowledged the reign of the Windows OS. To be more specific, I had XP installed on my MacBook Pro and will run it when absolutely necessary using Parallels 5. I have long resisted such a move, but have been forced to admit resistance is futile: there are some programs I need to use whose programmers/companies have yet to offer universal versions.

 I feel like a traitor to the cause.

"Christmas Sweater" Gets A Cold Shoulder

Think Progress reports that Glenn Beck's live show based on his book The Christmas Sweater failed to generate much of an audience when it premiered last night. Although the show was simulcast to "hundreds of theaters across the country," ticket sales were dismal: "Beck sold only 17 tickets in Boston, another 17 in New York, and just 30 in Washington, DC." I have to wonder what video of some other event Fox will use to beef-up, ah, I mean report this turn out?

Diagram of Where Rosa Parks was seated

via www.archives.gov

Read more at An Act of Courage, The Arrest Records of Rosa Parks

Boomer's Big Adventure

Maybe it was or maybe it wasn't actually a big adventure; I suppose we'll never really know. What we do know is this: as we were unpacking from our Thanksgiving visit with my sister--about 10 minutes into that process--we heard meowing. I figured one of the cats had been shut in a bathroom or bedroom and checked every room. Still there was meowing. Then as we walked into the kitchen there was this flash of orange outside one of the kitchen windows and suddenly there was Boomer hanging from one of the kitchen widow screens yowling while Bonnie licked him. How long he'd been out there, we'll never know. 

You see, my husband entered the house first upon our arrival in order to put Bonnie (our dog) outside so we could unpack without having to deal with her running around. After we discovered Boomer, my husband says, "Ya know, that door was open when I came in, but I didn't think anything of it." The door, you see, hadn't been closing properly for about a week but neither of us had bothered to deal with it, well, because the door used to be a window. Not long after buying our house, we decided to buy a sectional, and although we had carefully measured we had failed to take into account the fact that the middle of the thing wouldn't be flush with the wall. So, the sectional was too long and blocked the door. We really liked the sectional and got a really good deal on it, so rather than return it, we swapped a window and the door. It worked great except for some reason that made sense at the time, the handy person we hired said the door would have to open outward rather than inward. And now the door sometimes pops open.  

So, we were sure we'd locked it before leaving. How or when it opened and when Boomer went out is a mystery: maybe it didn’t really lock, maybe our kind cat sitters had gone out to feed our tortoise and the door hadn't closed, or maybe it popped open when my husband came in through the garage with the dog. Whatever the case, the door had opened and Boomer was clinging to the window screen with a wild look in his eyes.

We opened the door, and he came flying into the house and ran under the bed. I ran in to check him out, and he came out from under the bed when I called his name. He crawled into my arms purring like mad. I checked him all over, and he seemed fine: his fur wasn't damp or cold or dirty and even his paws were clean. So, that makes me think the door popped open when we got him, and he went outside as he likes to do sometimes.

To welcome him home, Scooter hissed and spit at him all night. I suppose he might have smelled different--from stress or from being outdoors or both, we'll never know.What I can say, though, is Boomer has been pretty clingy and we're installing a deadbolt.

OMG

I can see Sarah Palin's ego from my house--it's just a bit beyond the pile of lies that surround her.