It remains rather amazing how lint and litter, over a short period of time, can amass into little mountains of fuzz and excrement, respectively.
After a few days or weeks go by, and after many loads of laundry have been washed and dried, the lint accumulated from these multiple washings can reach astounding proportions. Likewise, if three or four days go by without cleaning the litterboxes, an extraordinary pile of kitty poop can be attained.
Sometimes, when the lint pile achieves such dizzying heights, it appears that perhaps a cat had inadvertently found itself inside, tumbling away in the dryer, and the resultant carpet peeled from the lint receptacle does indeed resemble the size and shape of a feline!
And those boxes; all that poop! What to do with it all? I use the clumping kind, and so that makes cleaning up a little easier. A little. We have three cats, and three litter boxes. As is usual, the cats will only use two of them, the third always left in pristine condition, with nary a paw print in the sand. The other two can be overflowing, sometimes with bricks of s*** the size of…well, bricks. Mind you, this has not been an accumulation of kitty crap for weeks on end, unlike the monstrous lint ball, but a mere three or four days!
How is it possible that three felines can produce such an abundance of kitty poop? Astonishing. And I am the one who ends up doing the dirty work, scraping and sifting the mounds of litter, a most heinous task of excavating for excrement. How pleasant. I put the remains in a plastic shopping bag and put it aside, until the next hideous cleaning. After many forays of digging and straining, you can only imagine the amount of cat poop littering the basement.
And to that question of what to do with it all? When it begins to reach epic proportions, and the sour urine ammonia stench becomes unbearable, I empty it all into a trash bin (all 80 pounds of it). On a darkled, starlit night, I lug it out to my ancient vehicle, and patrol back roads, looking for the perfect spot. All with this putrid bin in the back seat.
Under the cover of darkness do I hurriedly get out (the car still running of course) and heave the offending bin from the car, drag it across a gullet, and strenuously upend the contents into the damp and Cimmerian woods. I then scurry back to the car and roar off into the night, the ghastly deed finally done. Until next time.
And that mountain of lint? Well, I suppose I can save enough up from now until October, and make a pretty good scarecrow out of it. What do you think?
Copyright, Paul Grignon, 2012, All Rights Reserved.