Litter Challenges

For the past two weeks, I’ve had five pans of cat litter in strategic places: Puffer’s own large covered one with a special mix of clay, corn, and herbal in its usual location in the utility room; the other large covered one that also is in its usual location under the work table in the studio with its slightly different mix of clay, corn, and pine; two small ones for Litha, one on the kitchen floor next to her box house, and one in her box house that I also use for visiting aunties, with her special kitten mix in them; and one small one in TangaRoo’s crate, this with a mix that includes outdoor dirt that she is used to.

For some reason, TangaRoo hates to use the litter pans. I hoped that bringing in some of the outdoors would help her feel more comfortable with the apparent distaste. While she was kept in the crate, she complained loudly each time she needed to use the litter, but eventually she did. Before her surgery, I kept her in the studio for several long nights and found she had used bedding for her business.

If I completely obeyed modern medical instructions, these three would still be separate. But since I’ve opted for a looser approach, they have more freedom of choice. Puffer’s first choice always is to use all litter pans. Both she and Litha think the one in Roo’s crate is to be used daily.

Litha is still too small to climb into the grown-up pans, but the little one in Roo’s crate is the same size as her own special ones. I’ve read it’s unwise to use clay for the littles because the dust can overwhelm their tiny lungs. She didn’t like the corn, so I bought non-clumping litter for the early months.

If you aren’t familiar with cat litter, let me tell you that the introduction of clumping litter made the job of cleaning much, much easier, especially for multi-cat households. With the non-clumping kind, you end up scraping to get the used parts out, and you must wash the pan more frequently to keep things relatively odor-free.

But, like all things in our modern lives, each convenience comes with a cost. Clay is mined with little regard to the environmental impact on surrounding communities. Corn, of course, comes with the cost of modern farming methods. These products have to come from somewhere, usually in enormous quantities, and get transported. I think the outdoor cats, including Roo, have the right idea--look for soft dirt and use that.

Unfortunately for my neighbors, the cats prefer sand. A compound that is being built across the street has some lovely builder’s sand. And, my immediate neighbor has a sand pile for occasional use. About every two weeks, I go there with a scooper and make a good pass at trying to keep that particular pile cleaner. Flies are a problem. I clean my own property at least once a week.

There are solutions to this problem, but they require cooperation and some expense and effort. I keep thinking things will quiet down and I can get to that particular project. One of the main reasons Animal Control is called is because of the poop problem.

It turns out that in this country dogs and cats produce about 10 million tons of waste a year. San Francisco is exploring the possibility of using dog doo to generate electricity through a methane digester. There is a movement to create such contraptions for individual households, but the difficulties in doing so are not likely to lead to this as a solution to local poop.

Composting is another option, but with caution. Both cats and dogs excrete pathogens considered dangerous to humans. High heat is necessary for composting such waste, odor is a common problem, and then one needs to think about where to use it.

Some advise flushing because the waste gets treated. Sending the poop to the landfill in plastic bags, which is what I do, probably means it will sit there for a century or two. I have fussy plumbing, so I have been very reluctant to try the flushing option.

This is a lot of sorting for a mind that wants to rest. Yesterday, when I was cleaning Roo’s little litter pan of waste from all three cats, I found myself laughing at the thought I could get everyone to do things my way. I give up. Hopefully next week TangaRoo will be going outside (depending on her surgeon’s concerns), the crate will be stored, and this household will only have three litter pans each with their own mix.

If I someday come to deep rest even in the face of cat things, I will know that most of my conditioning has been burned up. This what-to-do worry is stressful and mostly not fun. And, as far as I can track, it makes no real difference. Cats are notoriously independent creatures and, therefore, unmanageable. Which may be a very good metaphor for the mind and all its convolutions in trying to help. Might as well sit back and enjoy with laughter the antics of cats and see what they have in mind for me.