Hugh is driving me BONKERS this week. Every day, it’s been a virtual flood of revenge pee. Ever since I started letting Hugh wander the hallway, he’s been OBSESSED with it, and if I don’t let him wander, I end up cleaning. Over and over. It’s one of the reasons why I had to move into a place with in-suite laundry — I was washing rags and cleaning towels in the bathtub, and I just couldn’t keep up. It would be alright if he would wander and be satisfied, but he goes in and out. In. Out. In. Out. Caterwaul: “Let me out!” Out. In. Out. Caterwaul. Pee.
This is what it’s come to: Hugh is looking for novel ways to drive me to insanity, and I’m looking for novels ways to write up a Craigslist ad to foist His Peefulness on to another household.
Anyone want a 15-year old tuxedo cat who eats expensive food and takes a pill every day and is incredible messy (food and litter) and won’t cover his business but won’t go in his litterbox unless it’s pristine?
Yeah, I thought so.
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