The Shadow (Litter Box) Wars

Warning: Contains potty/litter box humor!

Meet Shadow. He doesn't really fit in that box, but you'll never convince him of that.

We adopted this little guy when he was a tiny kitten in 2014 after saving his life in a town animal shelter. They were about to close up for the evening, and my husband spotted this tiny, black kitten who had somehow gotten his collar stuck in his mouth. He couldn't close his jaw and his frenzied attempts at dislodging the collar weren't working. There were no attentive workers to be found, and we had little doubt that this kitten was in trouble. Without hesitation, my hubby ran off to find someone to help the poor kitten.

When you save a life, you're responsible for it forever, right? Well, we are in this case. We took the sweet thing home. Who could resist this?

You'd think he'd be grateful, right?

Don't get me wrong. He can be very affectionate ... when he wants to. However, his habit of stretching his glorious belly out while lying on his back in the middle of the floor is a trap. I am so often drawn in by its irresistible siren song of "Pet me 𝅘𝅥𝅮𝅘𝅥𝅰 .... pet the belly!" which has resulted in numerous "love scratches." I have learned to look the other way and give him a wide berth.

I don't mean to make it sound as though I have anything but the utmost love and adoration for my kitty. I do. He frequently sleeps on our feet at night, and his mousie play is unparalleled. My husband channels a special voice just for this cat, who frequently has outrageous requests for our shopping lists, including but not limited to a live fish, a boat, his own turtle, etc. I guess you could say he has wormed his way into our hearts. And he has a home for life.

But I digress. This is the story of a battle of wills over the litter box. Anyone who has cats, especially multiple cats, will know that they each have their own way of doing things. Nowhere is this more apparent than in their toileting habits.

After all, we have this little guy, named Loki, who apparently won't lower himself to sully his paws in the litter while he takes care of business. He does, however, manage to balance on the rim of the box with the expertise of an Olympic gymnast.

At any rate, Shadow started out normal ( you know ... for a cat, that is). "This is your box," I said.

 

 

"Okay," he meowed. Things were fine for a few years. However, at some point, he began to raise his butt higher than the edge of the box and pee onto the wall behind it.

"I shall add a cover," I said, wisely knowing that this would solve our problem.

"I will not use it," Shadow informed me. "I need to be able to look up in order to aim my pee toward the heavens." And he proceeded to urinate outside the box, leaving rivulets of pee everywhere that took a UV light to find and tons of Urine Destroyer to clean.

"I shall provide you with a much bigger, open box," I told him.

A satisfied smile spread across my lips as Shadow immediately jumped in the new Jumbo-sized box and took care of business. However, he soon began lifting his butt higher and higher in an attempt to apparently send his urine into low earth orbit. If only the walls hadn't gotten in the way.

"I shall tape puppy pads to the wall to catch your urine," I said.

"And I shall deliberately urinate on an angle so as to miss your puppy pads completely," Shadow replied.

And he did.

However, I am nothing if not determined. Scanning the pages of the Chewy.com site, I finally happened on the answer to my prayers. It was a photo of an item so wonderful that I swear it was surrounded in a halo of heavenly light. A box so large and with sides that were so high that my wall-defacing kitty would never even know that I had totally thwarted his home-wrecking plans!

I immediately purchased said item and once it arrived, I presented it to Shadow with a flourish, "Your new box, my kitty lord."

Shadow looked at the box and then told me with utter disdain, "Yeah, I'm just gonna pee out the front."

He's lucky I love him so ...