Poo Wars

There is an inter-species war occurring in our apartment, a war between the upright humans and a four legged tortie that goes by the name of Sasha. Sasha was a part of the package when Rachel and I moved in together. In the beginning, Sasha and I got along fantastically. She snuggled above my head at night, followed me around the apartment like a lost puppy dog when Rachel wasn't home, and relaxed in her kitty sauna when I took a hot shower.

Lately, Sasha and I have not been seeing eye to eye. The problem started as a strange behavior, when Rachel and I realized that she liked to pee in the tub. She would position her little pee-hole over the drain and a perfect stream of pee-pee would go straight down the shower drain. I was repulsed at first, but then realized that it was better that she pee-peed (how the hell do you spell that?) in our tub than in other places, such as my shoes or in the bottom of my backpack.

Eventually, Sasha either got bored of simply pee-peeing in the tub or has been intending to tinkle but gets caught off guard with the surprise/accidental poop. At first, this shit fiasco occurred in bursts every few months. She would shit in the tub two or three days in a row, then abruptly stop. Rachel and I tried to solve the problems in a variety of ways: new litter boxes, new litter, rearranging the apartment to perfectly place the litter boxes, and even allowing Sasha to drink from the bathroom tap.

Nothing seemed to work. In fact, the poo wars only got worse, instead of being every few months, Sasha began pooing in the tub on a monthly basis, then a weekly basis, and then a daily basis. We went from cleaning up three piles of shit in a month to cleaning up two, sometimes three, piles of Sasha poo on a daily basis.

Not only are we cleaning up cat poop on a daily basis, but it's not just any cat poo, it's the Sasha poo. A poo that is a weapon of mass destruction. Her poop has the odor of cat feces (obviously), raw meat, and rancid potatoes and has the texture of baby food. Cleaning up her poop is a nauseating and gagging experience, to be honest, I have delegated the poop cleanup to Rachel. I only clean up her poo when it's an emergency situation, such as needing to shower and Rachel isn't home to clean it up. I know it sounds evil, but to make cleaning up cat messes even, I am responsible for cleaning up any cat puke.

Recently, Rachel and I have been keeping the bathroom closed off, specifically at night, since Rachel has been waking up on a daily basis to a pile of toxin poo. Having the bathroom closed off has been a wonderful solution for the last week. Sasha poos in her litter box at night and Rachel doesn't have to clean up poop before her shower. Though, Sasha does poo in the tub while we are at work, so by the time I get home, there is a guaranteed pile of poo with venomous odor in the bathroom.

Last night was no different, Rachel closed off the bathroom as I tuckered into bed. In the wee hours of the morning, Rachel wakes me up in a panic because she can hear Sasha scratching and attempting to cover something up under the bed. Wifey wakes me up in a frantic, upset, panic and explains what Sasha was doing. As soon as she has finished explaining her fear I get an overwhelming scent of cat shit. I get out of bed, get on all fours, and take a peek under the bed. What do I find?

Sasha attempting to cover up a giant pile of poo with a Puffs tissue box. Poor tissues never had a chance. Rachel and I had to move the entire bed so that we could clean up Sasha's disgusting mess. After moving the bed and getting a nose full of toxins, I immediately went into gag mode. I stumbled out of the room to get fresh air, almost tromping through another cat mess, this time a giant pile of cat puke.

Sasha and I are at a stalemate. I'm not quite sure what to do about this problem, though I'm beginning to think I should start pooing in her shower...aka her mouth.