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Mad Pooper, revealed
Tuesday, December 11 2007
By 2pm I'd finished the convoluted questionnaire-and-algorithm system I'd been working on nonstop (with the exception of Staturday) since Thursday. It was working and mostly bug free, ending with a tidy little X-Cart integration. Suddenly I was free to do other things and I felt both liberated and a little sad (as I always do when anything ends, even if it's miserable).
At some point today I was in the kitchen and saw Wilma the plump grey cat on the kitchen island, a normal part of her habitat. Then I saw that there was a puddle of yellow urine around a nearly-empty bread bag, the bag from which my sandwich substrate and superstrate had been coming. It was suddenly clear to me that the Mad Pooper (and Pisser) had to be Wilma (and not Clarence, who had been the primary suspect). I picked her up and walked her over to the nearest litter box. (Gretchen had put one in the nearby office temporarily to gradually lure the Mad Pooper's bathroom habits back into the laundry room.) Finding herself surrounded by cat litter, Wilma seemed surprised at her luck and immediately took an enormous crap, which she left uncovered in a manner identical to that of the Mad Pooper. Then she fled back into the living room.
Throughout the rest of the day I'd periodically carry Wilma back to this litter box in hopes of reminding her to its existence, but she always fled without using it, usually in that short-legged dash typical of cats who suddenly find themselves outside their territory. What the hell was wrong with Wilma? She used to bother Gretchen all the time when she'd be using the computer nearby, but now it seemed Wilma had voluntarily excised the office (and the laundry room beyond) from her range. I've also noticed that she no longer goes up stairs for any reason. That she voluntarily decided never to use the outdoors always struck me as strange, but that she would decide to shrink her territory, even excising the parts she needed for the orderly disposal of her bodily wastes, seemed bizarre. Perhaps she experienced some sort of trauma on the way back to the laundry room, such as a playful ambush by Julius (aka Stripey), who is fond of such things.
It was nice to kick back and watch teevee without anything hanging over my head. Unfortunately I didn't have any malt liquor on hand.
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