Spring, a wonderful season of rejuvenation which I have been celebrating as favorite holiday by Spring Cleaning every nook, corner and skylight feature as I find the time and inspiration. Getting around to the Garage, I discovered that our neatly stored luggage was both dusty (a known) and reeking of cat urine (an unknown). This reminds me of another life story, but I’ll save that one as the arc of the narrative does not bear repeating.
I am not sure if this is universal, but I do not enjoy my hard earned objects being thus graced, er- sprayed, particularly by animals that I have not invited into my home.
As a result, I have a pile of what increasingly seems to my mind junk, languishing in our back yard waiting for the day that I have time and inspiration to make a fair go at scrubbing the piss out of it, as it were.
A note; part of our initial attraction to this rental home was it’s preinstalled cat doors, one from kitchen to garage and one from garage to outside. “Brilliant!” we felt at the time since we love fostering independence in our small male charges. Well, overall it has been brilliant with some notable exceptions; coagulated cat piss in the corner early on discovered after a week back East, blood on our bedspread, a cat fight in the living room at 3am, and now it has been calm enough until recently.
There was the fucked up mess of a garage, cats caught in the act of eating Mohammed’s food, cats hanging out in my hoop garden (I swear to god if I find them using that as a litter box…)
And then this, a mid-spring, mid-night’s waking dream…
The baby has just developed the skill set (getting from prone to sitting upright unassisted) to render his co-sleeper (or bed since birth) no longer safe. Ah, I realized this was the why I had been saving that playpen all these years. After a night of our heads popping up repeatedly to see if he had sat up and also figured out how to vault out, last night I set it up in a flash before bedtime.
I wheeled the co-sleeper out of the room; sniff sniff, my baby is growing up, and then come midnight. He stirs and wakes and cries out. Daddy heads over to offer water and soft murmurs, but instead raises his voice and informs me that the baby smells of cat piss.
We were stunned, repulsed and angry, but also very confused because we were just a moment ago in dreamland and this is a new experience for us both. The crux of our debate: do we bathe the baby now or ignore it and deal with it in the morning. We repeat back and forth the information: “Baby! Cat Piss! Gross! What next!” until we find our way to a course of action.
Long story short: we all showered, changed pajamas and tossed the playpen back in the garage (teeming with semi feral felines whom I wish to spray with vinegar or vivisect or something appropriate) and the co-sleeper back in for the night, though he mostly stayed nestled between us with a head smelling sweet as redemption.
Good story! True tale! Now, I am off to research effective feline repulsion techniques while wondering if having our cat’s testicles surgically reapplied is a viable option.