Childproofing a litter box.

I've had a few hits lately on people searching about how to baby/childproof a litter box.

Amazingly we haven't had any issues. Mateo is 16 months old, almost 17 months, a walker, a runner (sorta) and very inquisitive.

He has managed to learn that the litter box area and the cat food area are definite "no" zones. I think one of the things that helped us is we never made a big deal about the two areas, unless he does show some interest, and then we firmly tell him "No - that's the cats' food" or "No - that's dirty."

It also helps that he's never been left alone (too much) to wander around these areas. Granted, our condo is small, so he's usually in eyesight wherever he is.

With that said, I would suggest putting the litter box on a platform or somehow gating if off so the baby/toddler can't get to it. Those were our two thoughts, but then we realized how much of a non-issue it became.

I am still waiting for the day Mateo has a handful of litter or pee clumps in his hand. So far, so good.

For mom.

Why I can't post a title, I do not know. This shall be the untitled post that should have been named, Who's in the bathroom?

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As I was rocking Mateo to sleep tonight, my husband was milling around in the hallway, mumbling to himself, and, I assumed, getting mad at the cats. Then I heard him shooing someone away and telling them to get lost.

I put Mateo down in his crib and walked into our room. I looked in the hallway, and there was Zoe with her paw and one eye looking under the bathroom door. The light in the bathroom was on, but my husband was in the kitchen, doing dishes. I did a cartoon double-take at the bathroom door, then at my husband, when he said, "Sophia's in the bathroom."

Huh? I thought. Why is Sophia in the bathroom? Better yet, why does my husband know Sophia's in the bathroom and this is okay?

"Sophia's in the bathroom," I said.

He gave me a look that looked like he was about to turn on a dime any second, depending on what I said after that.

"What was I supposed to do!" he exclaimed, his eyes bugging.

"Not put her in the bathroom?" I said.

I walked to the door, opened it a crack, saw Sophia hunkered down, waiting to make a break. I gently pushed her away so I could get in the bathroom with her when I saw the poo log on the floor. I got in, closed the door and took some toilet paper to pick up the poo log, which I then deposited into the toilet.

I grabbed Sophia, put her on the toilet lid and lifted up her bushy cat tail. She had another long poo log stuck in the depths of her fuzzy butt hair. I grabbed some more toilet paper and gently grabbed for the log. This, of course, made Sophia crazy, and she immediately turned and bit my wrist while letting out a mad cat growl.

I grabbed her neck fur so I could remove the poo log, which I did, and put that in the toilet as well. After flushing the toilet, I gave Sophia's butt a once over and then let her out of the bathroom.

Zoe was at the door the whole time, so Sophia took her craziness out on Zoe by chasing her off into the bedroom.

And still, to this time, my husband is brooding over the fact that Sophia had poo logs stuck to her fluffy butt hair and he didn't know what else to do but put her in the bathroom and wait for me to wonder who was in the bathroom and why Zoe was so interested.

Kitty love

I woke up today to find one of my kitties (probably Zoe) brought me her favorite cat toy -- weasel. He was laying in bed right next to me. The kitty who brought said weasel was MIA.

Bob

I bought a Roomba iRobot with some cash that fell into my hands at the end of the year in hopes that it would calm my husband's obsessive need to eliminate all traces of our cats and their litter from our condo. And to just do the regular vacuuming so neither one of us has to.

His name is Bob.

Bob has turned out to be a fantastic cat entertainer. Or expensive cat toy.

Today while I was resting on the couch, Zoe was milling around where Bob is docked. All of a sudden, I heard Bob's "dun-dun-DUN!" song, which means he was turned on. I wasn't sure if he'd start moving since he was docked, so I didn't get up immediately. After a few seconds, he undocked himself and began spinning his wheels. Zoe, apparently, was sitting on top of Bob, which was how he turned on, and right when I turned to look at where Bob was heading, Zoe jumped about 5 feet in the air, landed and ran off.

That's what she gets for messing with Bob. He's one mean machine.

Dr. Appt.

I was called into the doctor today. While we discussed my massive swelling and stay-puff man appearance, my doctor said, "Let me look at your legs."

She grabbed my pant leg, pulled it up, saw the two huge band aids, and said, "And what happened to your leg????"

Just like I thought.

I told her that I had a run-in with my cat, she didn't appreciate it and bit me. A few times. And since I can't see over my belly, well, it was bound to happen.

Danger! Danger!

Being almost 37 weeks pregnant, completely swollen and a bit bumbly has it faults. Last night as I was brushing my teeth, I walked from the bathroom sink to the main part of our bedroom. My husband walked by me, and I teetered a bit, which caused me to step to the right. Unbeknowest to me, Missy Sophia (the more, how should I say....reactive of our two cats) was right next to my Fred Flintstone foot and I managed to step on her tail. No damage was done to Missy S., and I wish I could say the same thing for my right leg, but I would be lying.

Luckily for me, this happened when my husband was there because otherwise I would have died from slow bleeding or cat scratch fever since I can't really bend down to clean off and bandage the lower part of my legs. I'm now sporting two very large band aids that I'm sure my doctor will see tomorrow and ask in a round about way if someone's abusing me.

Yes, Missy Sophia.

Kids n' cats

My cats get easily freaked out by weird noises, and yesterday was a day full of them. First every time the phone rang, they both thought someone was coming to the door (this is how we let people into our building), which they both fear for some reason and run away, then Sophia heard something in our bedroom and was acting like an axe murderer was in there, ready to kills us all, then the Safeway guy showed up, which made Zoe run for her dear life and Sophia to sit in the hallway, bobbing her head up and down while the guy gave me the grocery bags, and finally after I got home from the doctors, the pipes made some awful noise in the kitchen, which not only freaked both cats out but me as well.

When I thought everything was over and done with, I began to hear this annoying "zzzzzzzz" noise from the hallway. Then kids talking. Then BAM! a crash into the hallway wall. Then "zzzzzzzzzzzz," kids, BAM! Over and over. Both cats were freaking out, Zoe in the bedroom and Sophia hunkering around the condo, trying to figure out what it was. I looked out our peephole and I saw a kid, then I saw a remote car. Darn it. I am not allowing these bratty kids to stress out my cats, I thought.

So in all my pregnant, bag lady glory, I opened our door and told them to stop playing in the hallway and to stop hitting the wall.

"What?" I heard.

Oh jeez.

"STOP HITTING THE WALL!!!" I said.

One of the kids walked over to the door and peeped at me.

"Ball?" he said.

"Stop hitting the wall -- wall!!!" I said.

"Play with a ball?" he said.

"STOP hitting the WAAAAAAAALLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL," I said for the millionth time.

He mumbled something and then walked off.

That was the last I heard of them.

Don't be messing with the crazy pregnant bag lady with the bobby-headed cat who sits in the hallway and watches all door interactions. Oh no. Don't you dare.

Merry Christmas from the homeless holiday cat

Missy Sophia is decked out in her holiday ruff whilst sleeping in a box full of CDs. Meowy Christmas!

Cat lives

I was estimating that Zoe had used up 7 of her cat lives on her Catser page, so I guess she's now at 8 of 9. I think when she hits 9, I'll set her clock back to zero. I love her too much.

And I'm going to have a kid...and a boy, no less

Zoe's favorite place to hang out and sleep and sometimes fight with Sophia is on top of our really tall book/vinyl case. To make things worse, there are several 7" vinyl record crates lined up in a row on top of the case, making it that much more tall. My husband and I often contemplate what would happen if Zoe fell off the side of the case, considering she likes to sleep on the last vinyl box, which is about 10" or so from the edge of the case.

Today as I was trying to get an important e-mail out, with my back turned to the case, I heard the scratchings of a cat who sounded like she may be falling off the case. I turned and looked, and there was Zoe, just falling from the case and now hanging from the side of the TV with a look of panic in her eyes. Since I can't move very fast, I didn't even attempt to try to get her off the TV and just watched the poor girl lose her grip and fall to the speaker, which she hit and then landed on the floor, knocking off a metal elephant candle holder and candle we put on the speaker top.

I waited to see what she was going to do before I tried to grab hold of her to see if anything was broken. She ran to the sliding glass door, jumped as high as she could, bashed into it and then ran off yowling. This doesn't necessarily mean something is wrong with her, so I got up and tried to get her to come to me, saying her name softly. She kept meowing at me but wouldn't come.

Finally I got hold of her. I took her in our room, gave her a once over and a kiss and let her go. Now I have to spend the rest of the day checking up on her because she probably had a lion's amount of adrenaline in her system and if she is hurt, it's not going to show for a bit.

And this makes me wonder why I'm so happy to have a boy? Perhaps a little dainty girl would have been a better wish. Nah. Boys are the best.

Zoe is the cutest kitty ever!

Meow