How do you spell turd? Tird? Terd? I’m not sure.


My cat, Kokopelli, is very furry.  He is amazingly furry.  His butt is also very furry.

Sometimes he’s not feeling well and he has some litter box problems.  Problems like a terd getting stuck on the fur on his butt.  He might very well walk around for several hours with the terd on his butt.  Sometimes he knows it’s there.  Sometimes not.  When he knows the turd is there he tries, much like a dog, to scoot across the floor.  This apparently is an effort to remove the turd.  It usually does not work and the result is a stripe of poo running across the floor.  It’s all pretty horrifying.

Last Saturday I took a short nap.  Upon awakening, I went downstairs for a snack.  I noticed weird brown marks on the staircase.  These marks had not been there before my nap.  I wandered into the kitchen and the stench assaulted me.  I knew, just by the smell, that there was most likely a turd on the cats hindquarters.  Now where the hell was that stinky cat?

He was in his cat lounging box with a smug look on his face.  I think he knew he smelled.  He seemed not to care.

Things happened quickly.  I found my “poo grabbing” equipment and got to work.  I cleaned him up.  I sprayed Carpet Cleaner all over the steps.  (Which I have to let dry)  Poo-mergency was solved.

I watched a movie that was two hours long.  The carpet was dry and I could vacuum.  I started the vacuum and the spots actually became worse.  There were more spots on the steps.  Gross.  So gross.

I lifted up the vacuum to inspect and there was a turd on the bottom of the vacuum.  I had been rubbing more poo onto the carpet.

Gross.  So gross.

I raged into the kitchen to retrieve my “poo grabbing” equipment.  I screamed the whole way, “This cat pooped everywhere.  Everywhere.”   And then I yelled at DD “you keep missing the good parts!”

I removed the terd from the vacuum cleaner.  I vacuumed the stairs as best I could.  At this point, I was ready to burn the whole house down.

Because. There. Was. Poop. Everywhere.

…at least it seemed like it.

I snuck a look at the cat.  The poor boy, it really wasn’t his fault.  He wasn’t feeling well, I could tell.  And maybe he felt a little guilty because of the janitor duties I was completing.  You can never be sure how they’re feeling. Cats are pretty wiley.

Hopefully whatever digestive issues he’s had are over.  At least for a while.  I’ve been busy burning down the entire staircase and all the carpet.  I’m not done yet.




About hellpellet

a little pellet of hell
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