I find I spend about 20 seconds of my day shaking cat poop in the scooper over the box to remove enough litter as possible so that when I do flush, I am not backing up our entire septic system.
I've recently been thinking a lot about cat poop. I've had hour-long inner monologues on what to do with my new feline's business. Isaac may currently be kicking ass on Kittenwar!, but this does not elevate him above the norm. He has eaten headphones, phone chargers, sat on my head at 4 a.m., and otherwise been a bundle of joy. He is a little shit who makes little shits, for as the children's book says, Everyone Poops.
But not everyone goes in a litter box. If my little man was still a kitten, I'd have trained him to use the toilet, but alas, he is two, and old habits die hard. When I adopted him, the last thing on my mind was rules governing his excrement. But then, I read an explanation from the Dane County Humane Society about Madison's poop rules:
Cat Laws and Ordinances
The Madison Department of Public Health Animal Control Unit reminds all cat owners of the following ordinance requirements within the limits of the City of Madison:
- Cats must be currently vaccinated for rabies.
- Cats must wear rabies vaccination, cat license, and owner identification tags.
- Cats must be leashed when off owner's property.
- Cats must not be allowed to run at large or trespass on public or private property.
- Cat litter must be free of feces before placing in the trash. Feces must be buried or flushed down the toilet.
Failure to observe the above ordinance requirements will result in the issuance of citations. These citations, in the City of Madison, start at $99.50 and range up to $222.50. Your municipality may charge different amounts.
What the shit? A fine for a dingleberry in the trash? Are you crapping me?
So let me review the options…
Bury it. Once, I was attempting to rip out this gangly shrub from my yard. When I went to dig the shovel in I was nearly catapulted backwards -- the metal hit concrete! My "yard" is apparently a concrete slab covered by three inches of dirt and the Hulk Hogan of root systems. No burying the treasure for this pirate.
Flushing. I have come to use this option. I find I spend about 20 seconds of my day shaking cat poop in the scooper over the box to remove enough litter as possible so that when I do flush, I am not backing up our entire septic system. Twenty seconds of my day are devoted to inspecting the poop-to-litter ratio.
I go through all this trouble because there is the possibility that some trash collector is going to rummage through my garbage, find a nugget of badness, and fine me. I do this out of the goodness of my heart and wallet.
But it frightens me. I live in a house built in 1924; the dishwasher has exploded, the garbage disposal has malfunctioned, there is a water spot in one of the bedrooms that is ready to cave in, and the basement is like a crypt. What if I screw up the ratio? What if the pipes can't handle the truth?
My plan B is $600 per pound Kopi Luwak. Isaac may be an orange tabby on the outside, but if you look deep enough, you shall see his ethnic roots. If I put a few beans in his chow, I can offset fine costs via his prized excretions.
I never thought I would own a cat. Now I am the ultimate cat lady, broadcasting stories about poo on the World Wide Web. If you, too, would like to become this ridiculous, check out the Humane Society's adoption services to get your own little shit.
