I find it very surreal, for some odd reason, everytime I find myself sifting through my cat's litter box, in search of nuggets large and small. Just like the gold miners of old, I find it oddly comforting when I find a large morsel of dried poo or pee in my pooper-scooper. Albeit, I find it quite disgusting too.
I recall this one time, when a former co-worker, K____, asked me about Monkey, my cat. Her boyfriend was present and seemed to light up, asking me about my dog. The wind in sails quickly disappeared when he learned from K____ that Monkey was, in fact, a feline.
Personally. As much as I like dogs, I'd much rather be a cat owner. Not any old cat. I hate them long-haired Persian f*ckers. They all look pretty gay, and I'm almost certain that the male Persian are praying for death because of it. Monkey is a tabby. I wanted a Devon Rex, once upon a time, but $1200 for a f*ckin' cat, in my opinion, is complete bullshit. My family always told me to get a Labradoodle, but I told them I wasn't that flexible, adding that I'd have to kick my own ass if I owned something called a "Labradoodle".
Admittedly, the worst thing about owning a cat, is the sifting of the cat turds out of the litter box. And my cat, for some reason, always has to go at the precise time that I'm cleaning the box out. While I'm scooping, I'm often fighting to keep him from squeezing out a fresh steamer. I now distract him with a treat, while I steal away to shovel shit.
As terrible as it is, though, having to collect his poops and pees into a large vanilla-scented garbage bag, I'd still much rather do this than what my sister and brother-in-law have to do with their dog. Tucker is a three year old St. Bernard. He's not a huge huge dog, compared to most dogs of his breeding, but he can still take a whopper of a shit. I cannot conceive of the idea picking up a still steaming lump of dog shit, even if my hand is clad in a plastic bag. I remember when I had to look after Tucker one evening, when my sister was in the hospital giving birth to my nephew Jake. I took Tucker out for a walk, really really early in the morning. Long before any other dog owners would be walking their dogs, fully intent on letting the dog shit in the park and never even attempting to pick the nasty's up. Gross, I know. I think all dog owners should have to pick up their dog's shit. If you choose to have a dog, it should be mandatory to pick up their shit. Tucker, to put it bluntly, is not my dog. Therefore, I'm an exception to the rule. A loop-hole to the law, if you will.
I grew up on a farm. We had tons of cats (in the barn), and many different dogs throughout the years that I lived there. I can admit, as of right this minute, that I cannot ever remember seeing any of the dogs shitting in the yard. I don't doubt that they did, indeed, shit. After all, everybody poops. I just can't remember seeing any of them do it. I seen them all lift a leg and take a piss. I always hated coming out of the house to find a fresh stream of urine dripping down my bicycle, but not once did I ever find a nasty dog turd in the yard. And I would remember something like that.
I think it's funny as hell when I see a dog takin' a shit. Hilarious!!! Their whole body tenses up and they get this f*ckin' blank stare on their faces. In deep concentration, like their reading the stock market numbers in the Wall Street Journal. Probably concentrating on how to contort their body's in order to get the least amount of fecal matter on themselves. As concentrated you would be too, if you had to bathe yourself with your motherf*cking tongue.
But I'd never trade my cat for anything. Even if I were offered a dog that shit butterflies and never needed me to pick up it's nasty's. My cat is pretty frickin' cool. He's got an attitude sometimes, this is true. He's told me to go "f*ck myself" on many an occasion. And even now, he's curled up at my feet, snoring, and cutting off the circulation to my toes. Oooooouch!!!
