TGIF

I had been noticing an odor around the house, I wasn’t surprised and I sprayed some urine-be-gone at some likely sources and tried to think about flowers.

But the odor doesn’t go away. So I spray again - because there is no thing quite as odor-y as the odor of a mess not quite cleaned up. I fear that Dogger has been prepping her one dog show: Crouching Dogger Hidden Puddle.

I removed the hallway throw rugs as possible sources - which would have been great if that’s where it was coming from. I walk into the house and walk into the worlds largest diaper pail, a diaper genie with hardwoods through out.

But after a couple of day I began to suspect it wasn’t simply eu do ew and may be something else. I think that Singer the Baby Kitty may be male.

I’m starting to think that that while Dogger and I visit with him in the yard every night that the cute little wiggle thing he does with his tale may not be so cute after all. The Kitty isn't doing it, I’m not even sure he knows about spaying. The Kitty’s first official act was at four weeks old as part of an experiment the local SPCA was conducting to see just how young a kitten can be and still survive anesthetic. He is almost ten years old now and if he did have any residual spray, it’s long dried up.

He has noticed Singer though, and now I know how. The Kitty is suddenly very lovely and affectionate. He offered to change is own dust box and asked if I needed anything at the store, he even head butted me the other day and has taken to sleeping in my lap when I watch TV in the evening. He’s feeling threatened.

I think Dogger must be feeling better, today while we were out for a pee break, she tried to hump Singer. Who by the way didn’t seem to mind, even after the second time Dogger tried to mount him. He followed us all the way inside the entry way. I got tired of standing there and squeakily closed the squeaky screen door - Previously a very scary thing for young Singer. Yesterday for instance, the door was big and scary and the screen was out to get him. Things have changed.

I closed the front door. My feral cats at school hated this. One tried to burrow under the door, another tried to make break for it though a window.

Nothing.

The Kitty is watching through the glass door. I open the glass door enough to forced Dogger through and into the living room. It is time for Singer the Outside Kitty to go back outside . I am a very dumb person. If a door is open wide enough for a very large dog to pass through it, it is open wide enough for a very small cat to pass though as well. I clearly did not think this through. Singer was now in my living room with The Kitty.

I wasn't worrying about Kitty on Kitten action, I was thinking that Singer has claws and my furniture has spent its life unclawed and how much I would like it to go into its second decade in the same pristine condition it has spent its first. The Kitty doesn’t have claws, instead, thanks to early intervention, he has very, very strong fingers - He can play the guitar, he knits, he’s fluent in sign... and he does not claw the furniture. Singer may not have ever even seen furniture before and I don’t want him to learn that claws have other, less defensive more destructive uses. I do not need him to freak out and try to climb my couch.

Fortunately, after exploring under my coffee table and a second attempted dry humping by Dogger and being thoroughly sniffed at by The Kitty, Singer decided to go back outside where all he has to fear is speeding vehicles, hungry hawks and predatory slugs.