When I take those silly Facebook surveys, or any survey in general, and am asked what quality I love the most in my spouse, I always respond in one of two ways (depending on the survey): he makes me laugh, or he is spontaneous.
When I made the list of qualities in a future husband that I thought were important as a teenager, these two ideas were NOT on the list. In fact, I'm not sure I knew much about laughter at that point in my life. And that, my friends, is why John is such an absolutely great husband for me.
Over the past few weeks, he has unknowingly pulled out all the stops.
As you know, we acquired a new stray cat in the fall. Hoot Magoot is the best cat we could have asked for, but he tipped the scales in the cat box department. Having four cats using a cat box? WAY too much poop. It was manageable in the fall when the cats were still going outside, but with the rash of storms and polar vortices during the past two months, the cats haven't set one paw outside. Maybe this wouldn't be such a bad thing, except that the cat box sits in our "guest" bathroom, the one that is supposedly always clean and ready for any unexpected visitors. It has become a nightmare of smell and mess, and I have been vocal in my unhappiness about the situation.
I remind you that I have not brought ONE of the cats home with me. John brought three home, and one followed Ethan home from the butcher's one day. In my mind, this should not be my problem, although when I am the only one home, and the cat box's odor drifts into my office, I am forced to take care of the disposal.
Have you ever watched the NBC show "Shark Tank"? If so, do you remember CitiKitty, the toilet training system for cats? Well John remembered it, and within three days of ordering it, it arrived at our door, ready to use.
I can't even believe that I am penning the next sentence. Our cats are currently being toilet trained. Yes, they are learning to use the toilet when they need to use the restroom. The idea is that we will eventually have no cat litter, no mess and no smell.
Unbelievably, three of our cats took to it immediately. It is the absolute funniest thing to see them perched on the rim of the toilet.
The problem is, if one cat doesn't take to it, the next step of the system can't happen. In other words, we're still at step one, waiting for the fat red tabby to decide that he too can use the toilet. It's funny, because not only does Scout look like Garfield, but he frequently has the attitude of Garfield. Toilet training is no exception. In fact, he not only won't use any of the cat litter we have laying around the bathroom now, but he will poop straight on our beautiful wood floors.
So much for a "guest" bathroom!
John is determined to make this work, and is even more determined to outsmart Scout. So, he took all kinds of boxes and random things he had hiding in the garage, and has attempted to cover the entire bathroom floor so that Scout has only one option: the toilet.
Except that Scout sees the front hall as an extension of the bathroom, and he figures the hardwood floors are just as nice there.
It's been a hot mess, and it isn't funny any longer. In fact, I just about lost it in the car the other day. I am a firm believer that people come before animals, and my mental sanity should definitely be a higher priority than training our cats to use a toilet. Of course, it doesn't help that I maintain a spotless house.
John has begged me to give it one more chance, because he knows that once Scout gets it, we'll be set. To try and stave off my insanity, he has taken to cleaning that darn room every time he's home (and first thing in the morning too).
Side note: John likes to buy exercise clothing, seeing as it's the only kind of clothing he wears besides his scrubs, and his Sunday suits. He will never pay full price, so he has quite the assortment of clearance workout clothing.
John came downstairs yesterday, and I could hear him before his foot even hit a stair. You see, this special pair of exercise pants makes NOISE. Lots and lots of noise. Swishing with every step. And not only do they make noise, but they have their very own look too. Spartan colors--bright green and white.
To top it off, John got a free t-shirt from his gym the other day. A bright red t-shirt.
Oh, my noisy, poop-scooping Christmas elf :-)
He headed into the bathroom with broom and mop, knowing Scout had outwitted him yet again. But what did John forget? Shoes.
So, instead of walking the 20 feet to his shoes in the back hall, he donned the closer, more convenient option. Our decorative Dutch clogs, sitting by the front door. I could hardly imagine what had happened when I not only heard his pants coming through the hall, but I heard the loudest footsteps on the planet.
I don't need sexy. I don't need smart. I don't need rich. I mean, what more could I want but THIS?? Am I right, ladies?????
When I made the list of qualities in a future husband that I thought were important as a teenager, these two ideas were NOT on the list. In fact, I'm not sure I knew much about laughter at that point in my life. And that, my friends, is why John is such an absolutely great husband for me.
Over the past few weeks, he has unknowingly pulled out all the stops.
As you know, we acquired a new stray cat in the fall. Hoot Magoot is the best cat we could have asked for, but he tipped the scales in the cat box department. Having four cats using a cat box? WAY too much poop. It was manageable in the fall when the cats were still going outside, but with the rash of storms and polar vortices during the past two months, the cats haven't set one paw outside. Maybe this wouldn't be such a bad thing, except that the cat box sits in our "guest" bathroom, the one that is supposedly always clean and ready for any unexpected visitors. It has become a nightmare of smell and mess, and I have been vocal in my unhappiness about the situation.
I remind you that I have not brought ONE of the cats home with me. John brought three home, and one followed Ethan home from the butcher's one day. In my mind, this should not be my problem, although when I am the only one home, and the cat box's odor drifts into my office, I am forced to take care of the disposal.
 |
| This cat looks positively BLISSFUL, using the toilet. |
I can't even believe that I am penning the next sentence. Our cats are currently being toilet trained. Yes, they are learning to use the toilet when they need to use the restroom. The idea is that we will eventually have no cat litter, no mess and no smell.
Unbelievably, three of our cats took to it immediately. It is the absolute funniest thing to see them perched on the rim of the toilet.
The problem is, if one cat doesn't take to it, the next step of the system can't happen. In other words, we're still at step one, waiting for the fat red tabby to decide that he too can use the toilet. It's funny, because not only does Scout look like Garfield, but he frequently has the attitude of Garfield. Toilet training is no exception. In fact, he not only won't use any of the cat litter we have laying around the bathroom now, but he will poop straight on our beautiful wood floors.
So much for a "guest" bathroom!
John is determined to make this work, and is even more determined to outsmart Scout. So, he took all kinds of boxes and random things he had hiding in the garage, and has attempted to cover the entire bathroom floor so that Scout has only one option: the toilet.
Except that Scout sees the front hall as an extension of the bathroom, and he figures the hardwood floors are just as nice there.
It's been a hot mess, and it isn't funny any longer. In fact, I just about lost it in the car the other day. I am a firm believer that people come before animals, and my mental sanity should definitely be a higher priority than training our cats to use a toilet. Of course, it doesn't help that I maintain a spotless house.
John has begged me to give it one more chance, because he knows that once Scout gets it, we'll be set. To try and stave off my insanity, he has taken to cleaning that darn room every time he's home (and first thing in the morning too).
Side note: John likes to buy exercise clothing, seeing as it's the only kind of clothing he wears besides his scrubs, and his Sunday suits. He will never pay full price, so he has quite the assortment of clearance workout clothing.
John came downstairs yesterday, and I could hear him before his foot even hit a stair. You see, this special pair of exercise pants makes NOISE. Lots and lots of noise. Swishing with every step. And not only do they make noise, but they have their very own look too. Spartan colors--bright green and white.
To top it off, John got a free t-shirt from his gym the other day. A bright red t-shirt.
Oh, my noisy, poop-scooping Christmas elf :-)
He headed into the bathroom with broom and mop, knowing Scout had outwitted him yet again. But what did John forget? Shoes.So, instead of walking the 20 feet to his shoes in the back hall, he donned the closer, more convenient option. Our decorative Dutch clogs, sitting by the front door. I could hardly imagine what had happened when I not only heard his pants coming through the hall, but I heard the loudest footsteps on the planet.
 |
I don't need sexy. I don't need smart. I don't need rich. I mean, what more could I want but THIS?? Am I right, ladies?????
Seriously I love it!
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