It could happen to you. It could happen to anyone. But it happened to me. And as embarrassing as it is, I feel it is a story that must be told.
Mom and Dad had a very late night last night. Mom runs a community theatre and they are in the final rehearsals of The Color Purple, which opens on Friday. So they didn't get home until close to 1 a.m. Mom has a super sniffer nose, and the second she walked in the house she knew something was amiss.
She followed the smell and noted poop residue in the dining room on the rug and on the window sill. Then she saw a small spot on my favorite chair to sit on (the white one, of course). That made Mom check my bottom, and I had poop on my furs around my bottom. She was quick to scoop me up. Dad shed his jacket and sweatshirt, and rushed me upstairs for the horror of all horrors -- a washcloth bath!
Dad cleaned my bottom, and my furs, and the base of my tail, and my bottom some more, until he was satisfied that he had gotten as much as he could. Then he dried me off as much as I would let him. I was unhappy, and very un-Loki-like. I even tried to bite him when Dad was trying to soothe me. He understood.
After I got out, I got one lonely treat. We love treats, and Mom and Dad suspect that with the bad weather and stress of them being gone, maybe I've had too many treats.
In the upstairs hall, Mom realized something was wrong there, too. The hallway stratcher was moved. Aslan and I are both very good about covering our messes -- a hairball, some puke -- we'll put something over it. And sure enough, there was a wayward poop in the hall carefully covered by the scratcher. They suspect that I either had some urgency and didn't make it to the box, or I had an incident and this cling-on was the primary problem.
So the scratcher got trashed, the upstairs hall, my favorite chair, the dining room rug and window sill, and a pair of brand new jeans that were on the guest bed waiting until they fit a little better all got spot cleaned or washed thoroughly -- at 1 a.m., because that's how Tech Week goes in the theatre.
Then Dad sprayed some waterless shampoo on my butt, because I hadn't had enough trauma that night. But he wanted to make sure I didn't smell like poop, even though I was clean.
After all the cleaning, Dad sat down to eat dinner (yes, dinner at 1:30 a.m.) while he made some corrections on the show t-shirt. And for some reason he refused to share his food with us. Something about upsetting our tummies.
I did forgive Mom and Dad for the bath, and snuggled with Mom in bed last night and this morning.
(On a side note, I mentioned Mom's new jeans. She's been kicking butt doing a fitness program called E2M for the last year, and she has shrunk to about the size she was early in college. We are super proud of her. And she's still out there kicking butt and getting healthier every day.)
(Also, the picture is not of the incident, because who wants to see any of that, but this is me being cute from the other day when I wasn't covered in poop.)
