poop – Pain In The Bud

Get Away From My Litterbox, I Need Privacy!

Dude. Put the top back on my litterbox and go away! I have some excrementory functions to attend to and you know I don’t like you hovering in the vicinity while I’m taking care of business.

I’m serious! Get out!

How would you like it if I could hear you straining over the sand or burying your biz? I can’t even go number one unless I know I’m by myself! You need to make like a tree and go into another room or I’m gonna make this whole place my personal litter box. Go on! Shoo!

Do they not teach basic manners to humans anymore?

How Dare You Use The Bathroom Without Me?

Dude. I’m hurt. Betrayed. I can’t believe you went to the bathroom without me and I had to stand outside, crying and scratching the door for 30 seconds until you let me in.

You know this is a group activity. It always has been. You sit on the throne and I watch you, occasionally interjecting with a meow.

Oh, privacy schmivacy! You poop, I poop, we all poop. What’s a little poop between friends?

No! Put down the newspaper! Put down the phone! You’re being rude. Hasn’t anyone ever told you not to bury your face in your phone while you’re at the dinner table or on the toilet? It’s antisocial. Now I have yet to hear a good explanation for why you went in here without me in the first place … Do we need to have another talk about closed doors again?

Point-Counterpoint presents two essays taking opposing positions on a topic. Join us next week, when Buddy the Cat will debate Buddy the Cat on another important topic.

Dear Buddy,

You’ve gotta help me out, hermano. I’ve got a real crisis on my paws here.

I can’t get any decent sleep.

I own a pair of humans who decided a noisy neighborhood was a good spot to live. Buddy, you wouldn’t believe the racket around here: Blaring car horns, subwoofers that rattle the windows, construction a few houses away, infernal dogs barking.

The neighbor kids next door are always playing outside at ungodly hours, like during my 1 pm post-lunch siesta, my 3:30 pm nap and my post-dinner snooze. I can’t even get in a few hours before it’s bedtime and I hop under the covers with my humans.

Buddy, I haven’t had a decent 16-hour day’s sleep in ages. What do I do!?

Dead Tired in Detroit

Dear Dead Tired in Detroit,

Ugh, that sounds awful! I get cranky if I don’t get my usual 16 to 18 hours in, so I can’t imagine what you’re going through.

This is gonna be tough, Detroit. I can’t help you with the construction or the cars, but we can get those kids and dogs sorted.

Deal with the neighbor brats the old school way by marking your territory. Poop in their yard and garden. Spray the side of their house. Scratch all the trees as high as you can so they think a huge tiger is on the loose. Let them know this is YOUR realm, and if the brats want to play they can sit inside and play X Boxes. (Where are these boxes? I have never seen them.)

The dogs are a little easier. Approach them carefully. When they bark, you say:

“Wow, I’ve never met a dog who doesn’t like bacon!”

They’re gonna get that stupid look on their faces, the one where their tongues hang out and their eyes go blank.

“What do you mean?” they’ll ask.

Here’s where you butter them up.

“The Bacon Faerie!” you’ll say matter-of-factly. “She leaves slices of thick, crispy bacon for good boys who don’t bark. But you already knew that, because you’re a smart dog!”

Try not to speak too fast and don’t call them stupid. Just wait for them to slobber while thinking about that delicious bacon, and your job is done.

“Yes, I…uh, I forgot about the Bacon Faerie,” the dumb dog will say.

Spread the rumor to a few other pups and you’ve got a quiet neighborhood with no barking. Steal some bacon once in a while and zoom around the neighborhood tossing slices into yards like a paperboy to keep the dumb dogs from wising up.

Now if you’ll excuse me, it’s been an hour since my last nap and my favorite spot on the couch is calling me.

Buddy