I love my cats, really I do, but they all have little quirks that sometimes make me want to ship them off to kitty camp for a month. This time it’s Rugen.
Ru is a sweet boy, frantically skittish when he sees feet coming, bold if a toy mouse is involved. He has a quiet little “mau” and he rolls around like a curly worm, asking to have his belly rubbed when he’s in a happy mood. He thinks all quilts and piles of folded fabric belong to him, and loves nothing more than to jump on Mom’s back when she leans over.
He also pees on unfolded clothing and blankets.
I don’t usually leave my bedroom door open at night because the cats can be rambunctious. I left it open last night when Buttercup did her ” ‘dorable me” squawk and ran under my bed. She likes to sleep between my knees, which means I wake up on my stomach, trapped to the bed. This isn’t fun when it’s 2 a.m. and I have to go to the bathroom and I can’t easily wiggle free, because she also sleeps like the dead. Last night she was joined by Ru, and they were cuddled together, too cute to throw out, when I returned from the nature call. Fool. The next morning I found my borgana blanket (borgana is a fake fur fabric – my great grandmother made blankets and pillows from it) on the floor. I scooped it up and got an armful of wet. Blech.
I’ve tried various sprays, multiple litter boxes (we have five boxes for three cats), frequent scooping, and fanatical attention to keeping all loose fabric items covered or neatly folded and put away. (That’s the most challenging for me – I’m a piler.) He’s fine for a while – sometimes months – and then one day he leaves a surprise. It isn’t a physical issue (I’ve already checked with the vet). He just thinks that anything he can scratch into a pile should be peed on. He was neutered at 6 months, so it isn’t really marking, either. He’s just a damn cat.