Welcome to what life in the Ryan household has been like for the last ten months. Because, despite having what is quite possibly the world’s most expensive litter box, Tigger’s preferred venue has continued to be the guest bathroom tub, which is located RIGHT NEXT TO the world’s most expensive litter box. Just to make sure we get the message.
This war has been marked by various, distinct stages, starting with
Phase One: Denial
This phase was characterized by the excessive use of phrases like, “Well, it could be worse,” and, “At least it’s easy to clean up,” and “Well, if we take this spot away from him, then he’ll just go somewhere else,” along with a sharp decline in outside visitors, so as to better hide the shame of our dirty little secret, plus enabling us to continue laboring under the delusion that everything was just fine, if a little smelly.
Phase Two: We Start To Get Really Pissed Off
Characterized by: Big talk that went nowhere.
Phase Three: Where We Think We Are So Smart
Characterized By: Long strips of blue painter’s tape strung horizontally across the opening to the tub.
Secret Weapon: The tape was placed sticky side out.
Success: Lasted 24 hours, until the need to poo in the tub outweighed Tigger’s fear of the sticky.
Phase Four: Where We Think We Have Plugged The Hole In The Previous System
Characterized By: Strips of tape strung vertically on top of the tape strung horizontally.
Success: See Phase Three results.
Phase Five: Where We Are Losing The Battles, As Well As The War
Characterized By: the inability to believe that, despite our combined eleven years of post-secondary education, we continue to be outsmarted by a f^$@ing cat, as well as the inability to find a baby gate that could meet our tub-protecting needs.
Phase Six: Where We Regroup
Characterized By: Lots and lots of swearing.
Phase Seven: Armageddon