The Shit Monsters

During pregnancy, you’re not supposed to change cat litter because of the (super tiny) risk of toxoplasmosis. The expert opinions vary on how big the risk of toxoplasmosis from indoor house cats really is, especially if you’re a long-time cat owner. But at any rate, it’s a chore that got shifted from the pink to blue category in our house. Realistically, it’s something Andrew can do to contribute to the whole baby-growing endeavour, in which he’s otherwise relatively useless. No judgment. He just doesn’t have a uterus.

Although Andrew has come to love the cats (more on this later), they were mine. I brought them into the relationship and their care and feeding has always been my responsibility. This means that until very recently, he was blissfully unaware of exactly how much they shit. Hint: it’s a lot. As my husband told our cat Mr. T this morning, “you are the reason we have a Costco membership.” Referring to the giant containers of litter we buy four at a time.

On one particularly fine morning, I found him on his hands and knees, aggressively scraping out the litter box, muttering to himself that we don’t really have cats, we have filthy shit monsters, that just shit all day long. All they do is eat, sleep and then shit some more. Besides the obvious fact that this is probably a very good preview of life with a newborn, it was hilarious. At least to the person not cleaning the litter box. And thus, the shit monsters were born.

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I take the stinkiest poops on the planet.

I take the stinkiest poops on the planet.