Sometime around 6:00 am this morning I woke up hearing a strange noise. It was kind of like a soft whistle through teeth. Tom was passed out beside me and we were the only ones home. I turned to him and said “What was that?!?!!?” he says “What was what?” sleepily and I said “That whistle”. Before he had even opened his eyes I had bounced out of bed and headed out the bedroom door to check it out. I thought maybe the Boys had come back from their Father’s early or something, I dunno what I though.
As I turned the corner I gasped. Tom was already hitting the ground running and asking me what was wrong. “Oh my God!!!…. I stepped in poop!!” I squeaked. He got to the door and hit the light to find me balancing on one foot extremely grossed out and then I started to laugh at how completely grossed out he looked. He asked if I had stepped right into it but fortunately when I felt myself trod down on something squishy I pulled my foot back up. I’ve had my share of stepping on squishy things in the past. Tom went to get me some paper to clean my foot with and we both set to cleaning up the two(!) deposits on the floor with the cat mess spray stuff. It would seem from the sheer size of the poop and the rather ashamed and sheepish cat hiding under the table that this was the guilty party:
That and Cinnamon was sleeping on our bed at the time. He’s basically a good boy but as you can see even he has his moments!
I’m thinking the sound was in fact Nutmeg realizing he had exited the cat box with a dingleberry and had run around trying to ehem, dislodge it making his pads squeak on the floor.
Ah the adventures of pet ownership!