Second-worst wake up ever.
In the middle of the night I heard an unrecognizable sound. The Dingo didn’t flinch so I knew it wasn’t something out of sorts in the house, but I couldn’t mentally figure out what it was. I went back to sleep deciding I’d deal with it in the morning.
Standing at the doorway to the utility room, I was in shock. It was 8:30am and I was hoping it was a bad dream—a smelly, gross nightmare.
The cat had somehow tipped her full of pee and crap litter box over and the entire contents were behind the dryer on the floor. There was cat litter all over the floor in the utility room and somehow a decent amount was in the kitchen where I stood, which is maybe 10 feet away, in disbelief.
As you can see by the picture, the cat was like WTF too, “I’m not sure what happened there, lady. What a mess.” After I snapped it, she popped up on the washing machine asking to be fed. Cats…
There was a bit of food in her bowl making it obvious the Dingo played no part in this disaster. Besides, she had an alibi: she was in bed with me at the time. Also, the dog, though known to jump up there to eat the cat’s food when I’m not home and haven’t crated her, hasn’t ever helped herself to the buffet of cat shit in the box on the dryer.
While I cleaned up the mess and cursed the cat, I tried to piece together how in the hell this happened. What could have provoked her to knock over her pan like that? She, based on what I’ve seen, enters and leaves her pan from the front, dragging cat litter across the space between the two appliances and on to the washing machine.
So, here’s what I think happened. Either someone broke in to the house, dumped the box, sprinkled litter in the kitchen, left tufts of peach-colored fur in the hallway to my bedroom and exited without setting off the Dingo, ooooor…
You know how cats take off running like maniacs after they poop?
Liza had a crap of epic proportions that either felt really good or hurt like hell, freaking her out so much so she launched out of her box sideways or a sharp angle, tipping over the whole disgusting mess, and with incredible strength and trajectory for a 12 year old, super lazy cat, landed with a litter packed paws on the kitchen floor about 10 feet away, upon which the impact scattered the evidence of said assumed flight; while also sprinkling litter like biohazardous pixie dust across the area.
Whatever happened, I hope to all things antibacterial that it never, ever, ever happens again. I give thanks I didn’t get up in the middle of the night to handle this. I’m not sure I could have gone back to sleep; though maybe I could have been on the heels of apococatshitlypse and had a better idea of how this cluster happened.