Kitty Litterture Cat Site

The Truth is Out There

It's just covered up and stuck to the bottom of a litterbox in a really hard clump that you couldn't chisel out with the jaws of life. Kitty Litterture is a short, fun read about my life with cats. It's brutally honest, funny and at times a bit nauseating.

Below are a couple of exerpts.

INTRODUCTION

Hello, my name is Deverie. You know, same as on the front of the book. Let me start by saying that I've always thought of myself as a fairly intelligent, witty, well-kept person. I THOUGHT I had a basic grasp on the world as a whole until it struck me one day, like a bolt of lightening out of the heavens. I realized that I had become one of those people P.T. Barnum spoke of so affectionately. Or maybe it was just the flashing, neon vacancy sign above my house. Who knows...WHO KNOWS? I'll tell ya who knows! The cats! They know! They've always known. The word's been out on the kitty grapevine for years about the suckers down the street. The fools that take in anything with four legs and fur (four legs and fur optional).

It began as an innocent, humane deed. Visiting the local shelters and freeing a cat or two on death row. We "shopped" at one so often, they gave us reduced rates. No foolin'!

Soon, though, it became apparent that every lost kitten and pregnant cat in the Tri-State area was finding its way to our doorstep.

Now, many years and many cats later (current population 31...but I'm sure someone's lurking around the corner), I consider myself somewhat of a cat connoisseur. Not necessarily of breeds, but of behaviour.

I have seen cats come and go, or more appropriately, come and stay. Each one is different than the next. Each one has their own distinct personality, traits, habits and needs. We are frequently asked how we can tell them apart. My husband likes to retort, "well, it's not like we got them in a big bag all at once." I wonder how a parent of more than one child would feel if I said to them, "ah gee, Billy, Jennifer, Ahmed and Gustav are so cute! How DO you tell them all apart?"

Anyhoo, you can imagine how, over the years, I have formed some definite opinions about cats. Since I am a pretty vocal person (OK, loud and obnoxious) I felt compelled to share my kitty wisdom with the rest of humanity. Kitties...gotta love 'em...keep your digestive aids handy.

Photo of Kitty Litterture Book Cover

BATHTIME-SAFETY GOGGLES NOT INCLUDED

For all practical purposes, you will only need to bathe you cat once during its lifetime. Allow me to rephrase that. For all practical purposes, you will only WANT to bathe your cat once during its lifetime...blood transfusions and retinal replacement can be quite expensive.

I've always wondered how professional groomers cope with bathing a cat. Every time I attempt this feat, I step into a Loony Tunes cartoon with the cat spinning a cloud of hissing, biting, scratching kitty parts about my head.

There is no doubt about it. Cats hate water, cats hate baths and cats hate you for giving them a bath. It's like a scene from Psycho, only in reverse. Teetering on the edge of the Empire State Building would be less traumatic for a cat.

However, instances will arise in which there is no way around giving Fluffy a good old fashioned scrubbing. If you own a suit of armour, now would be a good time to break it out of the hall closet.

In past chapters, I have described episodes in which you may lose an eye, this is yet another one. Oh sure, Mother would never let you have a BB gun or allow you to run with scissors because you might lose an eye. But, bring home a living, breathing iron maiden and all she could say was, "it's your responsibility."

Nonetheless, one must cast aside their fears when it comes to bathing a cat. You must rise to the occasion armed with courage and determination...bandages, antiseptic and a personal reserve at the blood bank.

Don't get me wrong though, not all cats react with a high voltage explosion. Some will howl bloody murder and bounce about the tub like a giant, soggy superball and still others just slip off into a shock-induced trance and go limp. This last type of cat makes bath time akin to rinsing overcooked pasta.

Overall, the best advice I can give a person on bathing their cat is: sit Fluffy down, look her straight in the eye and say, "get in that pet carrier, we're going to the groomer!"

LITTERBOX TRAINING-TO PEE OR NOT TO PEE

Litterbox training? Don't bother. They won't use it anyway. Oh, I can hear a million cat "owners" refuting this statement as I write it. "My Fluffy ALWAYS uses the box!" Poppycock! Get your head out of the sandbox! Wake up and smell the toffee! Denial will not cause those secret treasure troves to go away. Anyone who truly knows their cat, knows their cat only uses the litterbox, when they are looking. It's merely a cheap stunt to get a chin-scratch and a "hail kitty."

Meanwhile, when you are at work (earning money to pay for litter), shopping (for new and improved litter) or taking out the garbage (last week's litter), Fluffy is staking her claim throughout the house. Check behind the TV stand sometime and you'll see what I mean.

Cats have their own ideas of where the commode should be and it makes no difference to them how many "bad kitty" scoldings they receive. They know they are royalty and royalty can poop wherever it wants. However, I'll bet my bottom dollar that Charles and Andrew don't have fresh dirt from the potted plants stuck between THEIR toes.

While on our daily treasure hunts through the house, we have discovered certain areas that appear to be poop inductive. These are:

1.) Corners. Corners, in fact, are such a cat favourite, all they have to do is THINK about a corner and they'll **** themselves silly. If you have a cat, you'll fare better in a round house.

2.) Behind things. Especially large, immobile objects. Look at it this way, would YOU want to poop in front of the entire world? I think not...well, maybe some of you would, but that's your own sick business. Anyway, a cat knows there's less chance of being detected if they poop behind a heavy piece of furniture. No one's gonna scoot that credenza out until someone dies...more than likely from toxic poop fumes.

3.) Potted Plants. Fresh dirt is a cat magnet. It calls to them, beckoning, "dig in me! Poop in me! Flick me out all over the floor! And then poop in that!" We have been forced to gather huge piles of rock to place in our houseplants as a deterrent. We now have more stone in the ficus than that used in the pyramids. Which, I might add are not a great wonder of the world, but merely the Egyptians' futile attempts to keep their deified kitties out of the potted plants. I'm sure that if archaeologists dug deep enough under the pyramids, they'd find a droopy Boston fern laden with petrified cat turds.

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