I should have known last November, when my faithful cat, Lucky, chose to . . . relieve himself on one of my deconstructed Halloween props, that it was only the beginning. Shortly thereafter, he developed some confusion about indoor vs. outdoor routines. Or maybe he wasn't confused at all. Maybe it was a deliberate statement of his displeasure over my return to work and the end of our carefree days of togetherness.
Whatever the cause, the question, "Do you smell cat pee?" became all too common in my house during the fall and winter. Fortunately, we managed to return Lucky to his previous level of fastidiousness. But not before he had made a few more "statements". Most notably, atop a cardboard box full of Halloween spiders that I had tucked away in the deepest reaches of my basement storage room.
He really had to seek out this spot. And a weak cardboard box couldn't have been the most comfortable place upon which to perch. But he found a way. And I found a cardboard box with a wet lid and a noxious liquid penetrating the contents. I was devastated. And since it was February, the dead of winter in my part of the world, I tossed the entire box into the backyard shed, confident that it would remain conveniently frozen until spring. And give me plenty of time to calm down.
And now that spring has finally arrived, I gingerly approached said box yesterday and deposited the contents into a plastic bin. The spiders received a much needed bath and spent a quiet evening drying in the backyard sunshine. They survived the ordeal, but they will now forever be outdoor props.
My faithful cat, Lucky, watched the proceedings from a safe distance.
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