If You Don’t Want Me Pooping In Your Kid’s Sandbox, Maybe You Shouldn’t Have Made It Look Like A Giant Cat Toilet
Hello human. Yes, it is I, the neighborhood cat, and I’m back for my daily squat-and-push in your kid’s sandbox. You caught me. Guilty as charged. But before you start swinging that broom at me, don’t you think you’re being a little hypocritical?
Look, I get it — you don’t want me taking a dump where your four-year-old plays every day. Makes sense. Sifting turds out of your toddler’s sandbox like a 19th century California gold panner isn’t exactly the highlight of your week, I’m sure. I know pitching loaves in random backyards is bound to ruffle some fur from time to time. That’s on me.
But have you considered how much that sandbox looks like a litter box? I mean, it’s basically the same thing. I can’t help myself — I just look at that thing and I start prairie dogging on the spot. I mean, the absolute hubris of you humans, building a giant box, filling it with sand, and then yelling at me when I crap in it.
Before you get all grossed out, let me remind you: I’m a cat. Shitting wherever I want is kind of my thing. It’s not my fault Little Jimmy can’t tell the difference between my sandy logs and his gluten-free Gerber biscuits. God knows he has an affinity for putting anything and everything into his mouth. They have a word for that, you know. It’s called an oral fixation, and it’s not a good sign of what’s to come. He’s gonna grow up to be a professional gamer or a Michael Bay fan. Probably both.
Seriously, you’re better off getting that checked out now rather than waiting until it’s too late. Today he’s chowing down on cat doodie like it’s a chocolate bunny on Easter morn’, and tomorrow he’s vaping french vanilla CBD oil while listening to Limp Bizkit’s greatest hits. He’s one butt nugget away from becoming a parkour enthusiast. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.
And hey, I don’t complain when you humans defecate in the toilet, do I? Everyone knows that’s a cat’s primary drinking source, yet you all insist on sitting your bare asses down on it and doing your business. Why do you think we always follow you into the bathroom and watch you with that appalled look in our eyes?
The reality is that I’m never going to stop leaving my Purina Gourmet gravy trails in Little Jimmy’s sandbox anytime soon. If you have a problem with that, well, you’re just gonna have to catch me.
In fact, I’d like to see you try. I want to see you, a paunchy middle-aged dad who gets winded just walking to the mailbox, try to catch me, a spry two-year-old outdoor cat. I’m not some claw-less, ball-less house cat. No, no, no. I’m a free-roaming, fence-hopping, porch-prowling creature of the night! I fight and I fuck and I shit in people’s gardens. What are you gonna do, complain to my irresponsible owner? She wears mermaid leggings and talks to crystals. She don’t give a damn. So bring it on, loser.
What’s the matter? Don’t feel like chasing me today? Afraid I’m just gonna make you look like a fool in front of the entire block? Damn right. Go on, go back inside your house. I’ll be back soon, just you wait. Little Jimmy’s getting hungry, and I’m cooking up something real good for him.
Bon Appetit, Little Jimmy.
