Millard Filmore and The Cat Whisperer
2004-09-30
12:38 p.m.

Hey, what's up dogs? I've had some kitty fun recently. Let's start with the fact that I'm part of the idle rich (and by that I mean squarely middle class with simply too much time on her hands and a somewhat frightening obsession with the well-being of her cats) and so I hired a cat shrink to figure out what the fuck Chelsea's problem is. Well, I mean, I know what her problem is: She pees everywhere but the litter box. The newest place that brings her job is the guest bed. (Who wants to come stay with me? Huh? Not you? Not your friends? Not my in-laws? GOOD CHELSEA.) Anyway, it's getting out of hand and I can't pretend it will solve itself on its own anymore, so hire the Cat Whisperer I did.

(Incidentally, I didn't know about The Dog Whisperer until just a few seconds ago, but I'm excited to know that I'm not so crazy that I'm the only person who hires pet psychiatrists.)

So. The Cat Whisperer shows up, and we introduce ourselves and show her around and tell her about the Evolution of The Pee. First just in the living room, then in the litter box room but on the tile floor, then here, then there, then the office, then the guest bed and then OUR BED when we closed the door to the guest room. Chelsea purred and purred with the attention.

Basically, The Cat Whisperer wants us to completely empty the room that's been acting as my husband's Beer Room/ our Faux Basement. (What is up, once again, with the no basement in Arizona rule? I know you can dig a hole in the ground: I have one in my backyard, and it's called a POOL. Maybe I should throw all the boxes in the pool...) Once we empty it, we're supposed to buy a self-cleaning litter box. Then we outfit the room with the litter box, a chair, and a square of carpet. Then we put Chelsea in there for 4-6 weeks. If she pees on the floor, we move her into the bathroom while we clean it up. Under no circumstances is she to observe us cleaning up after her unless she pees in the right spot. We're supposed to go batshit on her if she goes outside the box. We're supposed to go in and visit her and stuff. Okele-dokely.

After 4-6 weeks, if she seems to be going in the box only, we start taking her out at night. We shut her into our room with us. She claims that Chelsea and Molly will start getting along if we force them. RIGHT. I am not buying that one, Cat Whisperer.

She also suggested that we get the invisible fence to lock Chelsea out of our living room since it's her #1 favorite place to pee on the carpet. She also said we could put it on the office and the guest bedroom, her other 2 favorite places to pee on the floor. I was like, "Or we could shut the doors." Har. Low tech!

(I sort of want to get the invisible fence and then make my husband wear the collar. I realize that is terribly Jackass of me.)

We're also supposed to get a black light and scan the house for covert pee and we're supposed to get our carpets cleaned and then, once she's doing well, replaced.

Basically we totally have our work cut out for us and this is going to cost a ton. I don't even care, though. I just want this fixed and will do anything.

The Cat Whisperer was pretty intense and didn't like my cat anthromorphizing at ALL. I was like, "Maverick eats on the US Presidents placemat because he likes to learn while he eats. Who was the last Whig president, Maverick? That's right. Millard Filmore." She was like, that didn't happen. I was like, Oh, but it did. In my head. Try this on for size: Chewy is my DOG. He's a cat, but he's my dog. Huh? Huh? Yeah. YEAH.

After that, I couldn't let it go. I was like, "Chelsea's so uncomfortable because since she's cross-eyed she sees two of everything, so she feels outnumbered constantly." And she was like, "People who are cross-eyed don't see two of everything." Har. I'd like to see this lady with a few cocktails in her.

When she was leaving, she was like, "Do you feel like you can solve Chelsea's problem?" And I was like, "I hope so." And she was like, "That is the wrong answer. Do you feel like you can solve Chelsea's problem?" And I was like, "Um. Okay." And she was like, "Wrong Answer! The answer is YES. YES I CAN." And I was like, "Okay." And she was like, "No! Yes!" And my husband and I were looking at each other and saying, "Millard Filmore?" except not out loud. Finally he picked up the slack and said YES with conviction and finally the Cat Whisperer left.

The end.