My poor cats. I am astounded that they have not developed poor peeing habits, or structured some sort of mutiny. I confess it’s not my favorite chore. It sometimes even makes me gag. (And I am a mom, who’s changed her share of poopy diapers, washed poopy clothes and both cleaned up vomit and held the heads of boys who are doing it.).
I have an alert on my phone. It goes off every day at 11 AM. Ha. I ignore it. Then I whine about (first world problem) doing it at night right before bed.
I am waiting for Mocha, the smartest of the three cats, to start writing me threatening notes in litter or poop pieces.
Sigh. If someone could figure out how to make this a fun thing, they’d make a mint.