If I could bottle it……

Cat boxes are not located in the most centric of household locations for a reason: they stink no matter what. Even so, cat owners develop a tolerance for the faint smell cat urine and we also have some sort of olfactory barrier to protect visitors from the nose assault… or simply have no visitors.

We keep our cat’s box in the wash room by the water heater surrounded by 70 of those cute pine fresheners you hang in rear view mirrors, an extraction fan and a New Age flame-less candle that is guaranteed to eliminate the smells of mass graves in Africa during the summer. Still, you can get a whiff of cat pee if the dryer kicks in. You can say I am well prepared and almost immune to what a cat has to offer.

But when I walked in the wash room yesterday, I was not ready for the attack. Lord, the smell! I felt my beard, eyebrows and eyelashes curl as if subjected to a flamethrower but interesting enough, the hair in my nose petrified and fell like cheap stalactites. My eyes did not just water but flooded like a glacier run off hitting the Amazon river in the middle of tropical rainy season. My throat constricted as if I managed to royally piss Darth Vader off calling his Mom an old Coke machine and my lungs felt like they were being raped by a band of cossacks.

I admit I lost all balance and if it wasn’t for the washer, I would have dropped to the ground and assume fetal position. My stomach rebelled at the assault and I could feel bile and the half-digested black bean chili dogs rising up the esophagus with astonishing speed. Still blind I somehow managed to open the washer lid (Thank God for top loaders) and avoided abstract art all over the floor.

I tried to move, but my legs refused to respond as they were checking the internet for a vacation spot somewhere in the Gobi desert. I pawed around with desperation trying to locate the can of Fabreeze for Septic Tanks we keep nearby the box but instead I grabbed the Starch In A Can which I used to cover the inside of my nose. This did diminish the smell and recovered enough vision to start the burners and finally activate the aforementioned Fabreeze and allowing me a crawling retreat to a safer location in my abode.

About 45 minutes later I recovered enough to don my British NBC survival suit and find out what in the name of Mustard gas attacked me. I approached the cat box carefully constantly checking the integrity of my suit for early disintegration and, when I finally reached the smelly epicenter I saw that it was cat poo that our dear Missy had decided not to cover up.

I don’t know what was in that poo or why it stank so bad, but I had to do something about it. Using two bags of quick setting cement, I covered the offending solid waste and very carefully loaded it in my truck. Thankfully I do not live too far from the Everglades so after a quick 30 minute drive, I found what I deemed to be a spot far enough from civilization and dumped the refuse into the swamp where it belongs. It had to be a tad strong still because this morning, Florida Fish and Wildlife is reporting an unusual migration of alligators toward populated centers where Perfumania locations can be found.

That’s the culprit right there. Amazing to think such a pretty face can create such a Bio Chem weapon.

UPDATE: I know you guys are not gonna believe it but…..the water heater is leaking. I swear on my Mom’s bible.

Damned cat poo.

16 Replies to “If I could bottle it……”

  1. While scooping feces and clumps of urine-soaked litter is acceptable daily litterbox maintenance, the litter itself should be changed out entirely on a regular basis, as often as once a week if the cat urinates often. The litter becomes impregnated with urine over time, which is what leads to the smell permeating the house. We rarely if ever smell cat urine in our house because we change the litter regularly.


  2. I have two cats. I’ve had two at a time almost my entire adult life. I love cats as much as anyone.

    But I gotta tell ya, the guy who was inspired to invent chemical warfare must have had a cat box in his house.


  3. And this is why I have turned into a Litter Robot convert (among other reasons).

    They are… a bit… expensive, but they pay for themselves in about two years due to reduced litter usage, and thanks to their “empty it out immediately” design, there is almost no smell whatsoever. Coupled with a UV air purifier, and Better Half and I never notice a thing.

    Until I open the drawer to change out the bags once every three days. Then I need to borrow Vader’s mask.


    1. I bought my cousin one of those for his then girlfriends cat[a year later WIFE’S cat] He was weird. Since the disposable containers for those boxes are a bit much expense wise[or at least they were..don’t know now] he would reuse them. He’d pull the tub, dump it in a bag, lysol the inside of the tub then stick back in the robolitter box. Then take the bag out to the dumpster


  4. OK, i’m not a cat guy, but I am very impressed with their “animalness”.

    I also realize that the laundry room is often where people keep their less than glamorous necessities.

    As one that is NOT immune to the stench of feline urine, I have to wonder about the wisdom of drying freshly laundered clothing in the immediate vicinity of cat excrement. As you may know, a dryer pulls in ambient air, circulates it throughout your load, and exhausts it outside.

    You may be immune to the smell on your clothing, but I’d bet that you have non-cat friends that call you “tabby tinkle” behind your back.

    Domestic cats: the best and worst friends; simultaneously.



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