![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Fucking Cat
Jun. 19th, 2002 08:53 amFucking cat.
I've had this couch since 1997. And for three and a half years, my cats treated it as just another piece of furniture. They didn't use it as a scratching post or a litter box, just lounged on it and shed all over it.
Now - and god is this pissing me off - Calvin's taken it upon himself to use it as a litter box. No, doesn't help that I set up a separate litter box for his lazy ass downstairs, he likes the couch now, thank you very much. The intensely frustrating part is that I know what triggers it. It's convenient paper products on the floor, blankets or jackets he thinks are icky, and as always, the now ever-present dog smell.
I feel helpless. I can watch Calvin and try to make sure he's not sick, and I can make sure that my room is clean and doesn't hold anything truly tempting, but the rest? Everyone else can close their doors, but the common areas? I can't catch every paper bag on the floor, or realize that someone's left something on the couch overnight. I'm not omniscient, not with three other people's things. And it's my couch that's taking the brunt of it.
It's just a couch, but it's mine. It's big and cushy and comfortable when it doesn't smell like an ammonia plant.
And of course there's this vicious little circle of justification - I'm upset, but it's just a couch. But it's my couch, my property. Well, it can be cleaned. But do I have to clean the bloody thing every single day? Well, do it once, well and you're good. But I can't keep it that way!
Back and forth and back and forth, and it's a big deal because now I'm upset, and forget my regular inattention to the job - I'm seriously distracted right now, and inclined to be snappish - my keyboard is already taking the brunt of my temper.
growl Fuck this. They're drilling across the hall. I need a walk.
I've had this couch since 1997. And for three and a half years, my cats treated it as just another piece of furniture. They didn't use it as a scratching post or a litter box, just lounged on it and shed all over it.
Now - and god is this pissing me off - Calvin's taken it upon himself to use it as a litter box. No, doesn't help that I set up a separate litter box for his lazy ass downstairs, he likes the couch now, thank you very much. The intensely frustrating part is that I know what triggers it. It's convenient paper products on the floor, blankets or jackets he thinks are icky, and as always, the now ever-present dog smell.
I feel helpless. I can watch Calvin and try to make sure he's not sick, and I can make sure that my room is clean and doesn't hold anything truly tempting, but the rest? Everyone else can close their doors, but the common areas? I can't catch every paper bag on the floor, or realize that someone's left something on the couch overnight. I'm not omniscient, not with three other people's things. And it's my couch that's taking the brunt of it.
It's just a couch, but it's mine. It's big and cushy and comfortable when it doesn't smell like an ammonia plant.
And of course there's this vicious little circle of justification - I'm upset, but it's just a couch. But it's my couch, my property. Well, it can be cleaned. But do I have to clean the bloody thing every single day? Well, do it once, well and you're good. But I can't keep it that way!
Back and forth and back and forth, and it's a big deal because now I'm upset, and forget my regular inattention to the job - I'm seriously distracted right now, and inclined to be snappish - my keyboard is already taking the brunt of my temper.
growl Fuck this. They're drilling across the hall. I need a walk.
