Apparently, Dizzy has decided he wants to be one of my customers from the studio who trashes the bathroom. Because we don’t have enough issues with that at work and we need them at home, too. Except, as he knows, he’s too young to drink, so he really doesn’t have an excuse, except that he’s defective:
Does this mean I have to start putting the toilet paper on the roll the wrong way?!!! Because I don’t think I can handle a change like that. Where is my bourbon?
What’s worse, he keeps pooping and peeing next to the two large litter boxes upstairs. We have plastic sheeting down the entire length of the hall up there to protect the carpet. And the times that he does actually poop in the litter box, he scratches the air or the side of the box instead of the litter, so the poop never gets covered and makes the entire house smell like Satan opened a paper mill in it.
I’m going to kill this cat if he doesn’t manage to kill himself first – which is actually a possibility. The other night I was sitting on the sofa reading a book when I heard a cat screech. I turned and caught a glimpse of Dizzy falling from the railing of the upstairs hallway. And I’d had just enough to drink that I thought, “Great, I’m going to have to uber it to the vet.” Luckily, he was fine, but now I have to redo the railing that he scratched up in his scramble not to fall. Seriously, this cat is defective.