Tag: Moggy

Lol, Cat Litter

We definitely have not yet hit our goldilocks moment with cat litter!

Who knew there would be so many brands and types available. I started with my usual arrogant save-the-world attitude and bought a large 10kg bag of recycled newspaper pellets. This being possible because someone else was carrying it to the car and from the car to my apartment. Newspaper pellets go sludgy.

Second was hemp pellets, left overs from the process of producing hemp for rope, hemp-crete and other products, this was another product that was going to save the environment. Hemp pellets disintegrate into a fine dust difficult to clean up and very bad for my allergies.

Third was a gravelly product made of tofu and pea flour. It is meant to ‘clump’ and so be easier to keep the litter box clean. It does clump but is also easily transported into the rest of the house by sticking between the poor cat’s toes, and is nearly as bad as the proverbial Lego block to stand on when walking around on bare feet. And why wouldn’t I?

Fourth is a tiny vermicelli-like extruded pellet made of coconut fiber and charcoal. This was probably the worst purchase yet. Very sharp, and I soon picked up a piece in the sole of my foot. Have been wearing a big band aid for a week. Apart from that, the stuff ‘clumps’ only reluctantly. The one thing going for it, it does work wonders on odors.

Above, a mix of fresh litter containing all four of the recalcitrant litter types. As by then I’d been buying a new sort every time I went shopping, and since I can carry home only the stuff I can fit on my walker, the average bag of litter weighs 5 kg.

At the present we’re trying out the mix of sawdust and wood-splinters. And when I go shopping in a few minutes I will probably–out of sheer pernickety recalcitrance–buy yet another of the still untried possibilities.

Having to send untold bags of used cat litter to land-fill is also not ideal. Before, when I lived in freestanding houses, the used cat litter went into the compost bin, or was buried in the garden and helped to build up my low-lying yard. I’ll be asking Brisbane City Council why apartement blocks don’t get green bins. It’s not as if we don’t produce any organic waste!

There has got to be a better way!

Cat Diary 11

Me training the old woman is an ongoing project. My main drive is to get more food more often. The day after she went out for dinner was excellent. We had a new to me meat at lunchtime … when she fed me a couple of chunks … and at dinner time when I got some of the gravy as well as a few more scraps. Yum!

This is me the day before, cleaning the bag that the barbecued chook came in. Forgot to mention that delicacy. Seems to me she tries me on new things at lunchtimes.

So it’s very disappointing when there is nothing much in the middle of the day. Makes the day long and boring.

To my surprise the day she went shopping she brought home a thing she probably thought I’d love. Nothing is further from that feeling about the alien thing she expects me to interact with.

Cat Diary 10

We have embarked on another training program, which is me learning not to ‘scrapple’ the carpet, is what the old woman calls it. Good luck with that, I say. It feels entirely too satisfying to give that up in a snap. I spread my front paw toes out wide and extend my front claws. Grab hold of a good swag of the stuff, and P-U-LL!

“NO!” the old woman said in a big voice.

The first time I got such a fright I had to go spend time under the couch to recover. But I had to make sure it was the clawing she was talking about, you know?

So I waltzed out in front of her working on the kitchen bench. Did it all again.

“NO!” she said.

So, yeah. OK. She doesn’t want me to shred the carpet. I’m pretty sure I’d have no problem, I already made short work of two rows of carpet weave that were sticking out into my domain from under the shed door.

Well no, maybe not short work. It might’ve taken me all one night, niggling at it. But would you believe, when the old woman went out for a walk, she came back with a huge slab of flood-worn five-ply she picked up from a place on the creek bank.

I said it’s big! But totally not something I’ve ever seen. Why wouldn’t I cringe away from it?

So first there was training me to trust it. Using kibbles of course.

Does she think I’ll trust anything just because it has kibbles on it?

OK, I didn’t last very long not trusting it. Soon gobbled them up and the thing didn’t leap up and bite me.

So next is teaching me to use it for my scratching instead of the carpet. Huh! I so can’t see that a piece of wood will be as satisfying as carpet!

Cat Diary 9

I’ve been learning tricks, would you believe? I have no idea what they are all leading to. For the last couple of days it was all about finding kibbles IN cardboard boxes.

Today the old woman put kibbles ON a box …

Here’s me finding them and taking one off. It’s a pretty wonky operation so I’m gonna wait till I’m really hungry before I have another go. In the meantime, I might think of a better way to get them down.

Other than that today has been a boring day as the old woman went out twice in one day, first time in the morning with all her painting gear and second time in the afternoon with the wheeled thing.

She came back hours later with it laden with stuff. New kibbles too, I hope. We were getting quite short on them.

Cat Diary 8

I confess to being completely stressed for the two nights that we had a visitor staying.

First there was the getting the place ship-shape, with no peace to just lay up and relax while the old woman worked through her usual routines.

No. We had putting away. Dusting. Airing the pillows. Wrangling bedsheets onto the mattress. Finding linen in the linen cupboard by first reefing things out, then putting most of them back.

This is how I prefer at least some of my day

But there wasn’t anything like sleeping on the couch for three days! because after our visitor arrived, I had to be totally on my toes. Not that the two women ever sat on the couch, they lounged about at the dining table.

And they mainly ignored me. Even the old woman ignored me. I didn’t get even one game out of her, and the kibble game might as well not have been invented. Very exasperating!

The first night I was shut in my den by 8.30 p/m! In vain I tried to tell her that she was making a mistake. Bedtime is at 9.30 p/m! She ignored my entreating look, where I begged to stay up longer. I was so shocked I didn’t make any further attempts to communicate.

The following night I decided to get back at them. Our visitor slept next door in the guest room made over from the study. I set my internal alarm, and putting my face right by the crack left by the door not quite closing, miaouwed every hour.

She had hardly any sleep, she said. Unfortunately, the old woman had a great night, she said. That’s when I discovered that when she takes out her hearing aids, she can hear very little. Certainly not a few little miaouws.

All was good, though. The visitor left at 9.20 a/m and my routines have been restored.

Cat Diary 7

Now that I’ve proven that I know how to play, the old woman is constantly thinking up new games. My favorite one so far is hunting kibbles.

Round about her lunchtime she’ll wander around with a small handful of kibbles and drops them tinkling into the various little plates and bowls she has hidden around the unit.

I know she means me to listen for the sound of them hitting the china but why would I? I just watch her bending over here and there to pour them from only a little height.

Then … this afternoon … she totally tricked me! We had a parcel delivery this morning that came in a cardboard box. After unpacking it, she set it in the living room.

“Go ahead,” she said. “Find out what’s in it. You should be able to smell them.”

First I just walked past it. It smelled new. Cardboardy. After her lunch I walked past it again. Hmph, still new and cardboardy.

By mid afternoon I’d worked it out though I continued lying around. A box with flappy bits—like that—seems like they’ll jump up and get me if I try to jump in between them.

The old woman weakened and lay the box on its side. That’s when I made my move …