human servants – Page 31 – Pain In The Bud

Pine Cat Litter: The Verdict

Should you give pine litter a try? Buddy investigates.

Big Buddy: Hey Bud, how’s it going in there?

Little Buddy: What the heck? [Head pops out of litter box flap] Get outta here! I’m trying to do my business in peace.

Big Buddy: But how’s the pine litter? People want to know.

Little Buddy: [Trills in irritation] People? What people?

Big Buddy: The people who read the blog. Your blog. Come on, you know this.

Little Buddy: [A sudden pause in the digging sound inside the litter box] You’re blogging about my pooping habits?!

Big Buddy: Well, yeah…

Little Buddy: To complete strangers? It’s a good thing no one reads your stupid blog.

Big Buddy: Actually it’s your blog, little guy. And people do read it. Last month it was more than three thousand, four hundred and…

Little Buddy: WHAT?!

Big Buddy: Yeah, dude. And they want to know how the pine litter is working out for you, so if you could just, you know, describe what…Ow! OUCH what the hell? Stop, stop! Don’t you dare…put those claws away, I’m not warning you ag…owww! You little…

As you can see, Buddy wasn’t too thrilled about the idea of me blogging about his business, but things eventually calmed down and I lifted the lid…

The good: Pine litter really absorbs cat eliminations of the liquid and solid kind, and does a good job neutralizing the scent. It might do a better job than your regular litter: At one point Buddy blew up the box, and while the smell wasn’t entirely absorbed by the pine, it was much less unpleasant than it usually is with scented litter.

It’s also better for the environment and can be purchased in bulk. That’s a win-win.

Finally, pine weighs considerably less than most other types of litter, which may appeal to cat servants who have difficulty lugging large bags.

The bad: Other cats might not take to it so readily. Buddy is unusually unperturbed by changes in litter, and although I try to remain consistent, I’ve tried several types. He doesn’t seem to mind. YMMV according to your cat’s habits and personality. If your cat is upset by the change, proceed gradually by mixing the pine with the original litter.

The main problem is the way the litter clumps, or doesn’t. You’re not going to get easily-scoopable clumps to leave your cat with a clean litter box, and litter scoops aren’t designed for pine. Instead you’ll have to dump most or all of it out and refill it. That’s not necessarily a terrible thing since you get more litter for the price, but you’ll need to keep a lot of it in your home and you’ll go through it quickly.

The verdict: Pine is probably a great solution for people whose cats aren’t picky about litter. It does a great job neutralizing odor. Others may find it requires too much maintenance and might be put off by the difficulties with clumping.

Pine Cat Litter?

How does pine cat litter compare to clay and crystal? We’re about to find out…

I was at Trader Joe’s today when I saw pine litter sitting on the shelf.

Pine litter? Never heard of it before.

So I picked it up, read the package and thought pine didn’t sound so bad. Fresh pine definitely smells better than whatever perverse alchemy happens with crystal litter designed to overwhelm the olfactory senses with a vague air freshener scent.

But, I thought, it’s probably not a good idea to switch up cat litters on my Buddy, especially so suddenly. I put the bag back on the shelf.

Then again, Buddy has been remarkably tolerant of every different cat litter I’ve tried. He didn’t bat an eye when I switched from clay to crystal, or when I switch brands. I picked up the bag again.

So I bought the pine litter, brought it home and just filled the little guy’s litter box with it a few minutes ago.

A8DAD129-95DA-4184-A238-8F881BCA0533 — Most pine litter looks like this.

Ruh roh! The pine pellets are big, much bigger than litter granules. And filling up the litter box took the entire bag. I’m worried. Is Bud gonna tolerate this? Will he take to it, or did I just condemn myself to scrubbing cat poop off the hardwood floors tomorrow morning?

I’d also forgotten to consider the fact that Bud likes to dig, dig, dig like he’s tunneling to China. It doesn’t look like he can do that with the pine.

On the plus side, the litter does smell like fresh cut wood, and that’s a definite improvement.

For now the king is sitting next to me on the couch. Nature will call before bed time, and I shall have my answer. Let’s hope it’s not poop on the floor.

BC38153D-4176-4973-8143-A3C348C079A1 — Why the heck is it garnished in this photo? Who garnishes cat litter? Does this mean cats like to snack on this stuff too?

Cats and the Art of Not Caring

Your petty human concerns are beneath us!

“Any dog’s a good dog, as long as you’re not a psycho.”

So says Bill Burr in an extended confessional rant about dogs picking up on their humans’ moods.

“I didn’t realize they feed off your vibes. If you’re chillin’, they’re chillin’. If you’re sleeping, they’re sleeping,” Burr says.

“But if you’re a psycho like me, and you’re standing in front of the TV screaming at the ref like ‘Dude, you’ve gotta be f—-ing kidding me!’, I didn’t realize the dog was gonna be in the corner like, ‘Yeah, you gotta be f—-in’ kidding me! This is bullsh!t! I don’t know what this guy’s mad at, but I love this guy!’”

https://youtu.be/4sUEaATniCo

Thirty thousand years of human companionship have forged dogs into the animal world’s foremost people experts, more well-attuned to human moods and behavior than any other creature by several orders of magnitude. Dogs can smell our emotions, read intent in our body language and gauge our sincerity by the way our facial muscles twitch.

If a dog’s favorite person is amped up about something, the dog is too.

But cats? They just don’t care.

When humans act out, cats are more like annoyed roommates.

“Excuse me, but you’re at a nine and I need you at about a two, okay? Some of us are trying to sleep like civilized people.”

“What?! Can’t you see I’m upset? You should be concerned.”

“Not my problem. Remember what I said: A two. And dinner better not be late! I don’t care what those guys on the TV are doing, my bowl needs to have fresh yums at the strike of dinner o’clock.”

DCED9394-81DB-444F-B43A-E53F2033A65E — “What is it that concerns you, human? Oh! I just remembered, I don’t care.”

If it doesn’t impact their food, territory or the quality of the service they’re receiving, cats don’t want to know.

So while I might be on the edge of my seat watching the Yankees’ Aaron Judge take a 3-2 pitch with the game tied in the bottom of the ninth inning, Buddy’s probably thinking, “Damnit, can the Yankees lose already so he stops moving around? I need a stable lap and some peace and quiet!”

Any cat’s an ambivalent cat, regardless of whether you’re a psycho.

2019 Official Royal Portrait

Lauded for its realism, Master Pawbine’s official portrait depicts the king in all his radiant glory, just like a photograph.

Regal in posture, handsome in countenance, luminous in presence. The Official Royal Portrait of Buddy depicts His Grace in his natural splendor, emitting radiant energy as he assumes a majestic pose.

Bend the knee and approach him humbly while bearing delicious treats, for that is how one curries favor with the king.

The Brat Cat

In my cat’s mind, biting is an acceptable form of communication.

I have eleven new scratches on my left arm.

They’ve all drawn blood, most notably a deep three-inch wound across my forearm that continues to bleed even after I washed it out and applied antibacterial cream.

That’s where my cat latched on in his determination to register his displeasure.

What could prompt such action? Was he terrified by something, reacting violently out of instinct? Did he lash out at me because I was abusive? Did I accidentally step on his tail?

Nope.

Buddy was angry because, while he has almost the entire run of the place, one room usually remains off-limits to him. A single room!

So tonight, after meowing and complaining, the little lunatic ran full speed into the living room and launched himself at me, latching onto my left arm and raking his claws against my skin. One second I’m reading, the next I’ve got nine or 10 pounds of angry cat doing an impression of a paper shredder on my arm.

I know it was a brat move because of his “I want it now!” whimper as he clawed me, and because he’s done the same thing many times. Without fail, it’s because he’s not getting something he wants.

1522930709106 — “I’m just a sweet little kitty-cat. Look at me! I’m harmless! Look at my cute little face, do you really think I’m capable of what I’m accused of?!”

There are phases. Bud could be a good boy for two months, the image of a well-behaved cat, then one day I won’t give him any more treats because he’s already had too many, and he’ll complain with his “But I want it now!” yowl as he’s biting down on my feet.

Or maybe he wants to go sit on the balcony, but I don’t let him go out because I’m leaving soon and I can’t just leave him unsupervised on a balcony only 18 feet from the ground.

And sometimes it’s just because Bud sees I’m getting ready for bed, and he doesn’t want to go to sleep, so he launches himself at me with claws extended and teeth ready to chomp down.

Over the years I’ve had a few girlfriends tell me I’d be a great dad. Stupidly, I believed them. Now I’m not so sure. If my cat is a legendary brat, thanks in part to his disposition but mostly because I dote on him, what chance would my kids have?

Well, it’s half to dinner o’clock. I’d better get on that quick, or Mr. Scratchalot is going to give me matching tattoos on my other arm.