this day is going to be a little on the long side, I can feel it in my bones. our two newest additions are NOT liter box trained as we were led to believe. I have the war wounds to prove it.
have you ever seen a six week old kitten expand his wee legs to actually touch opposite sides of a kitchen wall, while suspended over what appears to be a torture chamber, waiting for the spikes to shoot out from pockets in the litter box, the chinking noise of metal on stone? I didn't see the spikes either, but believe you me, this cat was PETRIFIED of said litter-spike-box and was not goin
we managed to literally keep throwing him (gently) back into the box of doom until he couldn't possibly jump out any more and he went. then retreated to my lap, very solemnly, very sulkily, just sitting there, kind of staring out into space with his head a bit down, like he was entirely stupefied with what just happened to him. here is where I totally wish I was an illustrator. I *think* I am still the one in charge. you had to be there.
and somehow, unbeknownst to me, I ended up with litter down my back.