Reasons Why Your Cat May be Peeing/Pooping Outside of the Litter Box
-> MEDICAL! Before you automatically assume your cat is peeing on your clothes because it is “mad” at you, TAKE YOUR CAT TO THE VET! There are SO many medical reasons why your cat is inappropriately eliminating. Your cat could have a UTI, it could be blocked (Is he straining to pee, peeing little bits all over, or screaming when he pees? THIS IS AN EMERGENCY!!!!!!!!!!), it could have arthritis and can’t jump or move to wherever the box is anymore. There could be kidney disease, endocrine disease (hyperthyroid, diabetes), GI disease, etc. PLEASE, if you cat is suddenly peeing or pooping outside of the box when it has never done that before, GO TO YOUR VET.
-> Stress: Cats normally don’t pee out of “spite”, but they can surely pee out of stress. Stressers can be any sudden change, new baby/pet, moving, etc.
-> Litter Box Aversion: Whether it be the box itself, the type of litter, or the location, cats can have aversions to these things and decide to eliminate elsewhere. One important thing to remember here is to frequently clean your box! This is simple solution that is easy to forget!
-> Unable to access a box: Similar to the one before, but some questions to ask: Can your cat get to the box? Are there multiple litter boxes if in a multi-cat household? (A rule of thumb I always heard of is 2 litter boxes plus 1 for every extra cat). Is there a dominant cat or dog that is preventing the cat from getting into or out of the box?
Kara pushed the door open slowly, reverently, like she was entering a temple, like she might disturb the spirits still lingering there.
Part of her felt guilty for never returning her key. She planned to give it back to Eve plenty of times, but something in her just couldn’t. Now, she was glad she kept it. It made sneaking in that much easier. Not that she wouldn’t have found another way, because this — breaking into Cat’s empty condo
was all she had left, and the only thing worse than losing her completely was knowing she’d never get the chance to say goodbye. Not the way she wanted. Not how she would have if she knew the last time they were together would really be the last.
She kept tabs on her travels at first, tracing her movements on a map each day with her fingers, like they would somehow paint a picture that made sense of her decision to leave. After hearing nothing for weeks, she knew she needed to move on. She was restless in her absence, agitated, and it affected her work. Eventually she became less invested, distracting herself with other things, other people, losing track of exactly where in the world Cat had landed, until that was, news broke of the earthquake in Nepal.
“Read it back to me!” I declare as I lean heavily on the fridge door and shift aside a casserole to reach the bottle of pinot that is my target. As it turns out, Starla Summers is rather generous and should chair the grief and welcoming committees in this town, seeing as how her contribution to the Madge-is-Grieving-We-Must-Feed-Her fund was ten bottles of wine. Cheap wine, but I’m trying not to judge, seeing as how I am suspected of murder and immaculate conception.
“Hot buns of steel!” Madge shouts from the table as her forearms slide forward across the surface.
“Wrong list!” I protest and fall into my seat. I squint at the bottle trying to focus on removing the cork.
Rating: e (fluff)
* * *
Laying on the grass next to each other as the clouds pass above them, a silence stretches between the two paladins - not the tense kind of silence as usual, but a comfortable and relaxed silence. Their jackets have been balled up behind their heads like pillows.
Lance reaches over to touch Keith, run his fingers softly over the back of his hand, up his arm, just to touch him.
“There’s a scar here,” he says, fingertips brushing idly over Keith’s elbow.
“From a cat,” Keith says, almost laughing.
“I’m sure you have some scars for lame reasons.”
“Yeah,” Lance admits, rolling his shirt up just enough to reveal the skin on his side. “I ran into a shelf at the grocery store. It’s faded a lot,” he adds, pointing to a barely-there silvery mark.
“That’s more lame than a cat,” Keith grins, pressing his thumb against the little scar just to see if it is one of those that is raised from the skin. It’s not, but Lance’s skin is very soft. He leaves his hand there.
“I have a few on my back, too, from the explosion in the castle.”
“The one you saved Coran from?”
“Yeah. I don’t know if they are from burns or if some kind of shrapnel hit me, but there are a couple little scars. Definitely not the kind of mangling I’d expected after taking the brunt of an explosion.”
“I have some from fights with the Galra, but not very many. Most of our run ins with the Galra are in our Lions.”
“Red is probably scarred,” Lance jokes.
“I’m sure Blue is, too.”
“Scars give her character.” Lance shrugs. “They give us character, too.”
“Yeah, I guess. I mean, we’d be the same without them.”
“Well, yeah, but we’d be boring."
"Even the lame scars build character?”
“Sure, why not?”
Lance rolls over, rests his head on Keith’s shoulder and presses his face against his neck. Keith lets him, likes the closeness.
“But, hey, be more careful, maybe?”
“You’re always rushing into things. I know I said scars build character but I’d like to see you being safe.”
“The same could be said for you.”
“I don’t rush into things.”
“I still want you to be safe.”
It’s quiet again, the warm sun playing across their faces, and Keith feels his heart clench when he looks at Lance.
“Lance,” he says softly. But his words won’t seem to come out, and his voice feels weak. Instead, he wraps an arm around Lance’s shoulders and pulls the blue paladin closer to him.
“I know,” Lance whispers, knows what Keith’s words can’t get across - at least not yet. And the warm feeling of love lingers between them, even if neither of them can find the right words to say it.
So… an opossum got stuck in the concrete drop outside of my office window the other day. It was a Monday, and I wasn’t sure how long it had been down there; it definitely couldn’t climb out. Other than putting its hand to my window when it saw movement, it looked very forlorn and didn’t move much at first.
I called our Facilities folks to help it out, but in the meantime, an apple helped it perk up. Reminded me of a little cat… with opposable thumbs.