Friday
Dec172010
My Unser Bunser Wunser's Gonna Get It In The Neck
Friday, December 17, 2010
I have the love of a certain cat lurking around here somewhere inside this icy stone of a heart of mine, and it is for that reason that I am writing this entry. If I am busy writing here, then I am not ending his life over there, and my humanity tells me that this is probably a good thing.
When we got him, he was between four and six months old.
In my mind, he was a lot smaller then than he looks in that picture, but he's a fairly lean yet still hulking 17-pounds of cat now, so I guess small is relative.
Anyway, he was cute:
We put bras on his head:
I took pictures of his butt:
He and Oskar founded a somewhat homo-erotic naptime pairbond:
And we can't forget the boxes! Ah, the boxes:
We had good times.
Wait, wait... There were naps! We must document the belly-up sleepytime:
This cat, Onion, the boy for whom I have crawled around after on all fours with a camera for over four years, has taken to peeing on my things.
He loves me! We must spoon together in bed! Oh, the cuddling. But then, usually because I won't let him sharpen his claws on the front door or tear off wads of plastic bag to chew like bubble gum, he hates me! Oh, how awful I am!
And then, to show me just how awful I am, he pees on my Rockport riding boots. Or my El Naturalista heels with the double ankles straps. Or my Danskos.
HE PEED ON MY DANSKO BOOTS LAST NIGHT.
The thing was, it was just a little pee, and I rinsed it off, and the boots seem fine – thank whatever deity comes to your mind – but the night before last, before the latest footwear incident, he committed another act of heinous terrorism.
HE PEED ALL OVER MY SIDE OF THE BED.
That's right. He peed through three quilts and two layers of sheets right by my pillow, and I almost ripped his motherfucking head off, except that I didn't, because if my Mennonite background has taught me anything it is that outward pacifism and nonviolence come first to better lay the groundwork for psychological grief and manipulation later.
I wanted to lock him in a closet, throw him out into the sub-zero elements, pinch his ears, rip his handsome head from his meaty neck. I wanted to stuff a thorny cork up his tiny urethra. I wanted revenge.
Instead, I breathed deeply after rinsing off my precious Dansko boots and crawled into bed with the Palinode between two sleeping bags we zipped together as makeshift bedding while we wash all the fucking cat urine out of our piles of our actual bedding.
It's like we're camping, I told myself. We're zipped into a bag together. It's cute, in a way. Except I totally didn't believe myself, because sleeping bags bring out a mild claustrophobia in me, and being zipped in meant that I couldn't effectively boot jerkface Onion off the end of the bed when he settled in to sleep like everything was hunky dory and he wasn't the worst cat to ever destroy over $500 worth of footwear in only a handful of weeks.
Do you see how, all at once, Onion looks cute but also like a psycho needy mofo who might occasionally need restraints?
Onion loves fiercely, but for every action there is an equal and opposite reaction, and so his love comes with a price, and that is his own personal brand of bioterrorism.
He's still my wooby, my little bubby wubber cuddly bum, my unser bunser wunser, but damn if I don't spend half my time these days imagining a little dotted line around his neck with instructions that say TEAR HERE.
----------------------------
UPDATE: We are going to take our Onion to the vet to get him checked out for an infection, not to worry. As much as I am pretty sure, due to the timing of these incidents, that he's doing it as an emotional response to social stress, I of course want to cancel out the possibility that he's in any kind of pain. I love that behemoth of a cat.
Also, I've added an extra litter box, which he seems pretty pleased about if the extra cuddling and lack of peeing are any indication.
When we got him, he was between four and six months old.
In my mind, he was a lot smaller then than he looks in that picture, but he's a fairly lean yet still hulking 17-pounds of cat now, so I guess small is relative.
Anyway, he was cute:
We put bras on his head:
I took pictures of his butt:
He and Oskar founded a somewhat homo-erotic naptime pairbond:
And we can't forget the boxes! Ah, the boxes:
We had good times.
Wait, wait... There were naps! We must document the belly-up sleepytime:
This cat, Onion, the boy for whom I have crawled around after on all fours with a camera for over four years, has taken to peeing on my things.
He loves me! We must spoon together in bed! Oh, the cuddling. But then, usually because I won't let him sharpen his claws on the front door or tear off wads of plastic bag to chew like bubble gum, he hates me! Oh, how awful I am!
And then, to show me just how awful I am, he pees on my Rockport riding boots. Or my El Naturalista heels with the double ankles straps. Or my Danskos.
HE PEED ON MY DANSKO BOOTS LAST NIGHT.
The thing was, it was just a little pee, and I rinsed it off, and the boots seem fine – thank whatever deity comes to your mind – but the night before last, before the latest footwear incident, he committed another act of heinous terrorism.
HE PEED ALL OVER MY SIDE OF THE BED.
That's right. He peed through three quilts and two layers of sheets right by my pillow, and I almost ripped his motherfucking head off, except that I didn't, because if my Mennonite background has taught me anything it is that outward pacifism and nonviolence come first to better lay the groundwork for psychological grief and manipulation later.
I wanted to lock him in a closet, throw him out into the sub-zero elements, pinch his ears, rip his handsome head from his meaty neck. I wanted to stuff a thorny cork up his tiny urethra. I wanted revenge.
Instead, I breathed deeply after rinsing off my precious Dansko boots and crawled into bed with the Palinode between two sleeping bags we zipped together as makeshift bedding while we wash all the fucking cat urine out of our piles of our actual bedding.
It's like we're camping, I told myself. We're zipped into a bag together. It's cute, in a way. Except I totally didn't believe myself, because sleeping bags bring out a mild claustrophobia in me, and being zipped in meant that I couldn't effectively boot jerkface Onion off the end of the bed when he settled in to sleep like everything was hunky dory and he wasn't the worst cat to ever destroy over $500 worth of footwear in only a handful of weeks.
Do you see how, all at once, Onion looks cute but also like a psycho needy mofo who might occasionally need restraints?
Onion loves fiercely, but for every action there is an equal and opposite reaction, and so his love comes with a price, and that is his own personal brand of bioterrorism.
He's still my wooby, my little bubby wubber cuddly bum, my unser bunser wunser, but damn if I don't spend half my time these days imagining a little dotted line around his neck with instructions that say TEAR HERE.
----------------------------
UPDATE: We are going to take our Onion to the vet to get him checked out for an infection, not to worry. As much as I am pretty sure, due to the timing of these incidents, that he's doing it as an emotional response to social stress, I of course want to cancel out the possibility that he's in any kind of pain. I love that behemoth of a cat.
Also, I've added an extra litter box, which he seems pretty pleased about if the extra cuddling and lack of peeing are any indication.
Reader Comments (16)
Ooh, I would suggest taking him to the vet pronto to rule out a urinary infection. If he, ahem, relieves himself conspicuously in an unwanted place, he may be trying to tell you something. If it all checks out, just watch, they'll suggest kitty downers. No kidding.
Heidi, due to the nature of his actions – it's always my stuff and usually after I've done something he doesn't like – we think it's due to stress, so I'm going to get an extra litter box for him and make sure that he doesn't feel displaced by his youngest sibling, Lula.
I've heard about these kitty downers, and they're starting to sound like a good idea, if my other methods don't work.
Oh my, so sorry to hear this. Our cat (equally cuddlesome) has taken to pooping in odd places. First it was our thick Chinese living room rug so we got rid of it and got a cheap Lowes rug for $40 which he has no desire to poop on. He then switched to the rug in the front hall, which was also a thick Chinese rug. I foiled him again by getting an even cheaper Lowes rug ($19.99) with hardly any pile at all, which has again stopped him. But that isn't as bad as peeing! At least it's easy to pick up.
I did have a former tomcat that I'd brought in from outdoors and had him neutered but he never got over the spraying thing, which was horrendous because I didn't even see it half the time. Had to use a black light to find it and clean it. It sounds as if your cat is not the same kind of case, though, since he was never an outdoor tomcat. As Heidi says, get him checked out at the vet and maybe he can help with medication. And in the meantime, keep your shoes in your closet and your bedroom door closed!
oh, the top of this post scared me for a minute! i had forgotten about the pee tweets i read this morning.
our 12 year old (neutered) cat has taken to humping the 1.5 year old (spayed) kitten. at least he stopped peeing (he used to pee on my husbands slippers - we went through many pairs that year).
my sister did some googling and it definitely seems to be an emotional issue. i suspect the same w/ your Onion. See if you can figure out what's changed that has him mad at you. I'm sure it will stop. Until it does, get a washable waterproof mattress cover and put your shoes out of his reach.
you'll get your lovable, pain-in-the-ass kitty back soon!
Hope you don't mind my 2 cents :)
We just rehomed our cat after THREE YEARS of her peeing all over the house. We tried everything, none of it worked for long. Her favorite place to pee? On the concrete right in front of the clothes dryer. Nasty.
I'm a ray of sunshine here, aren't I? Well, there is hope - I'd take him to the vet, explain what is up, and (assuming there's no UTI) ask for Prozac for him stat. Out of everything we tried, (and we tried many, many different litters, many different kinds of litter boxes, different placement of litterboxes, containment strategies, pheromones, etc, etc, etc) Prozac worked the best and the longest - but I will say eventually we had to take her off of it because she became alarmingly lethargic.
I'd also give your mattress a good soaking in one of those Nature's Solution kind of products (something made to counteract cat pee), let it dry out, then flip it over. Because if he can smell his old pee, he'll be tempted to do it again.
Talk to Laurie Ruettimann. She has a "pee cat" that she's managed to get to improve, at least somewhat.
Oh how I hear yah. Hippo no longer poops in the litter box. Ever. Thankfully her poops are usually quite firm so all's I have to do is spray the area with carpet cleaner and vaccum. But I loves my Hippo.
Hey! We both have cats that let loose in inappropriate places! *High Five*
I read in the earlier comments that you're getting him his own litter box. I don't know if you're tried the LitterMaid automatic litter box but it stopped my one cat from doing her bidness all over the place when she was jealous of a new kitten. It cleans itself 10 minutes after each use. It worked immediately for us at the time and then we only needed to have the one litter box. (Of course, years have passed and she's doing it again but I think that has to do with her having bladder crystals and not jealousy.)
Oh the joys of male cats with pee issues! When I was at home as a teen we used to have one called Clyde. He peed all over the clean washing on a regular basis. Once or twice we failed to catch it until the clothes ended up in drawers... Trying to figure out why your school uniform smells like urine is not a good start to the morning.
I think he is upset that you spend too much time on Twitter rather than playing with him.
I had a cat named Mozart and she (yes She) was the greatest cat ever. Beautiful, loyal and smart. I taught her to play fetch with popsicle sticks and spent many an hour amusing ourselves that way.
Then I married my husband. And Mozart didn't like B. Not one bit. At first she'd just hide, then she'd claw at his leg when he walked past and up it amped. She let her displeasure about her new room mate be known.
B ignored it, it's just a cat for chrissakes, but Mozart wasn't finished with her psychological torture. She started pooping in B's shoes. Every night. Only his shoes. Right inside them.
He grew more annoyed and I tried to hide my laughter while stroking my loyal cat and telling her why she mustn't behave like this.
Mozart didn't like this. And she obviously didn't get the results she wanted since B was still in her space. So she took to peeing on the bed. With B on it. While he was sleeping.
She'd hop up on his broad chest as he slept (he sleeps on his back) and she'd pee. And he'd wake up to the warmth of cat urine slowly seeping into his flesh.
She did this every night for a week. Each time she'd pee on B she'd hop to my side of the bed and curl up beside me as though it was perfectly normal to pee on my husband.
She never stopped peeing on B. So she found a new home. Where she never peed on anyone again. She lived for years, happily, with my sister until she died from cancer.
Mozart hated men. Or at least men that slept with me. How I miss that cat.
7 years at the Humane Society and 9 out of 10 times with big neutered males it is FUS. Feline Urinary Tract Syndrome, caused by the ash in the food. You are his primary care giver, he may be trying to tell you he is hurting. especially since he is picking your favorite things. Nigel, Also huge, did IDENTICAL things...shoes, boots, bed and then finally peed on my pillow while I was there! filled my ear before I could stop him! The vet will flush him and he may need a new diet...but he will stop? I sincerely hope it isn't but?
I am so sorry. I like cats enough, more of a dog person, actually, but I love shoes.
Our cat has anxiety issues and if he can't get to his litterbox (because the door isn't open enough for his liking or the bathroom fan is on or he gets scared by a rustle of paper on the other side of the room) he roams our three-story townhouse miaowing loudly and then craps in the hall. Usually at 5:30 - 6 am.
I would totally rip the cat's head off. Oh man. This is why I don't have animals, because although I actually do like cats (I am NOT a dog person) I just can't deal with all the urine and feces of children AND animals.
"because if my Mennonite background has taught me anything it is that outward pacifism and nonviolence come first to better lay the groundwork for psychological grief and manipulation later."
OH MY WORD that made me laugh out loud. I could say the exact same thing, but substitute "Mennonite" for "Christian Reformed". Gah! Organized religion!
Hang in there with Onion! He's such an adorable cat. Several months ago, one of my beauties, Alexander, started doing the same thing, shortly after I kept a friend's dog for the weekend. Our vet recommended 3 boxes for my 2 cats...and to have the bed and bedding thoroughly cleaned, and to keep the cats out of the bedroom and closets except for bedtime. (He also advised against covering anything up with rubber or plastic sheets). The multiple cat boxes seem like a pain, but it worked immediately for Alex. I'll hope the same for you--that he's just trying to adjust to your new apartment.
I feel your pain. If you find a solution, please please write something. Our 11 year old Aby lives in my husband's office (it's a large converted bedroom with adjoining bathroom, so it isn't like he's suffering but we miss him out with the rest of us) because that is the only place he won't pee and poop on the floor. We have 4 other cats (a lot I know, but believe me when I say--we had to). He's a tiny cat and would like to be an ONLY cat so we think this is age and anxiety and dislike of other cats. It started not long after we saved our youngest (a black cat at Halloween, Babbage)Still, I really wish we could let him out without him peeing on something. He even got our girlcat peeing on things, but she stops when he isn't doing it . We take up the bathmats, we close closets...but if he's out he pees on something.