~ The Dilemma of Cat Poo ~

These here are our cats, Moose and Gracie.  They are both Boys, but Gracie is the non-dominant one.  It’s difficult to explain.  He’s constantly grooming himself, too.  It’s a little weird, not that there’s anything wrong with itThe cats are a huge component of the glue that holds this family together.  When we rescued them as kittens, Garrick announced in his glee that we are FINALLY a family.  …He was 7 years old at the time.  Should I be concerned that it took the better part of a decade to make my BIOLOGICAL SON feel like part of a family?

Needless to say, since they are THE reason, according to Garrick, that we are a family, I have to be careful about how I talk about them.

I don’t mind the litter box cleaning…the kids help with that when I ask.  I don’t mind the cat food, or the vet bills or even the cat hair (which, in this house, is considered a food enhancer and spice.).  But, I do have, and I hesitate to say this, lest our ‘family’ status be threatened, one eensie weensie problem that has to do with the little furballs.

Bags.

Loads and loads of plastic grocery shopping bags.

We use them to carry the Poo away after we scoop the box every day.   We are on septic…scoop and flush is not an option.  So we save our grocery bags and use them.  It has worked very well…or WAS working very well, until we found out that we will not be receiving bags free from the grocery anymore….but as of next year will be taxed for them.  Somthing outrageous like 10 cents a bag.  Since Scottish blood coarses through my veins, I began hoarding (or Hordeing, depending on your point of view) all the bags I could.  I even took some out of the recycle bins at the front door of the grocery store like an, er, BAG lady. (sorry.)   I have bags in every nook and cranny in the bathroom closet, the basement, the kitchen.  I have Bags and Bags and Bags of Bags.

I have a lot of bags.

And I’m sick of it.

I try to overlook the bags and bags and bags of Bags (I need to get the word Bag into this post a few more times to meet my quota) but its hard to when the cats, who occasionally slip past us at the door to go galavanting outside, REFUSE to poo outside.  They could be out for hours, come back in and immediately go to the catbox.  And I swear they smirk at me when they do it. Ever seen a cat smirk?  Makes you want to grab them by the tail and start swinging.

I jest.

No, I don’t.

Yes, I do, really.

(no, I don’t).

Cat Poo.  Its a dilemma.  Makes me want to say, “Aw, Bag it.” (had to squeeze another one in.)