You’ve already met Speckles, and now it’s time to meet Luka. All twenty pounds of him. WARNING: If you haven’t had your breakfast yet, you might want to postpone reading this… Sure, go ahead and blame the owner for allowing him to reach such portly proportions. However, ask yourself: how many fat yellow cats you’ve encountered in your life. I bet it’s more than a few. Baby, they just seem to be born that way.
Luka’s gluttony drives him to such persistence and that can make him difficult to love. For a good laugh, my husband and I have been known to set a new bag of food in front of him just to see how crazy temptation drives him. When I refill the automatic dispenser he goes completely ballistic. I also let him shove his face into the big Tupperware container where the cat food gets stored. For a brief moment he gorges on the fresh food before I snap the lid back into place.
Notice that we feed him a hairball formula. If you were as fat as him and had to labor to clean around all that fatness, you would produce some hefty hairballs. I must admit, we could stand to brush him more often. Yet, he doesn’t get too many hair mats. For a fat kitty, he’s usually pretty adept at grooming himself. That is until made our cross country move from Idaho to North Carolina. Thankfully, we had kept the long hair on his hind legs trimmed. Otherwise we would have had a lot more cleaning up to do. I’ve lost count of the times we’ve had to get out the wet wipes and literally wipe our cat’s ass. Not pretty.
Enter the hairball of doom. Maybe I should make that plural because Luka offered up two gargantuan ones shortly after we settled into our new place. “You know Matt, Luka really needs brushed…” How many times has that been uttered over the years? Poor kitty. But cats are like kids. They occasionally make messes and you clean it up. Life goes on. His ongoing case of the runs seemed hairball-related, so I just wanted to bide my time and let nature take its course. That is until a mysterious intruder appeared in the extra bathroom which also housed the litter box.
The best solution for the stinky cat box became an automatic air freshener. Glorious apple and cinnamon lingered in the air rather than the smell of dusty cat litter. Since moving to North Carolina, the cat box just seemed to smell more than it ever did in Idaho. Maybe it was due to the higher humidity. It didn’t help either that Luka went through a spell where he stopped burying his waste.
With a fresh-smelling house all seemed on the up and up. Luka even wretched up the biggest hairball I had ever seen. Usually both of our cats produce tube-like ones due to the way they must pass though their esophagus. But no. The present left on the bathroom carpet was a shapeless mass of nasty yellow kitty hair. Surely, Luka had to feel better after expelling such nastiness.
Matt went on his merry way for a week of training in Dallas and the next day Luka became a monster. Meowing, scratching at the door, and spraying piss all over the dining room. I later discovered a pile of runny poo on the bathroom floor by the tub, as if he had been going and walking at the same time. The next day as I was drinking coffee Luka also proceeded to spray again, only this time on the opposite wall of the dining room. It does no good to scold a cat after the fact, so I picked up his porky body and lugged him to his box where he did end up going.
And the next day? Not a drop. Nothing left in or around the litter box. He did whine a lot to go out onto the screened porch. Sometimes I think he acts more like a tomcat than a neutered cat. A neighborhood cat likes to hang around and a bunny also likes to taunt him from the other side of the porch. In any case, Luka acted like a supreme A-hole all day. That was also coupled with another gigantic hairball he had left for me to discover in the morning. Thrice I put him in the box. Thrice he ran away.
Everything started to fall into place. He wasn’t dying, although that is a fear that runs through my mind now since I’ve had to put two pets to sleep when Matt has been gone on business. No, it was simpler than that. Luka was afraid of the bathroom, more specifically the Airwick Automatic Freshener. And the new habit of not covering his waste once his box was put in the new bathroom? He’d been in a hurry.
The pssst of air the auto-freshener let out was just too much. It struck fear into his heart much like the way squirted water or a pump from a bottle of air. I pushed the box into the extra bedroom. Curiosity and nature calling got the best of him. Luka went.
Such joy. I sent Matt a text message: Luka pooped! In the box. It wasn’t runny and he covered it up!!!
I decided to move the box closer to the bathroom door so Luka no longer had to walk walk past the air freshener. Maybe now my stupid kitty can just go back to being his usual annoying self, sans spraying, sans the runs, sans hairballs.
Do you have a stupid kitty story?
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Article written by Jeri Walker-Bickett