I Bought Fancy Toys for the Kittens but They Only Play with Their Poop

"Are you hiding poop in there?"

“Are you hiding poop in there?”

I don’t really understand why the kittens find poop preferable to the six jingley play balls and the pricey carpeted scratching post with feathers. They have ignored all of my efforts to impress them with material things. Maybe because they have self-sustaining entertainment: their own poop. I wish I had known this before I dropped a pretty penny trying to create a fun environment for them. I would have gotten bigger litter boxes or just filled my entire room with litter – oh wait, that’s already happened – had I known that they would enjoy what happens in the litter box so very much.

Every time I go into the room, the kittens are doing their darnedest to turn my room into a raw sewage dumping ground. Their toys sit sadly in dark corners, untouched save for some half-hearted pawing all the while the kittens thinking to themselves: I wish this was poop. 

This is what happens: they paw around balls of poo in the litter box until they successfully get a piece of it out. Then, they proceed to play table hockey amongst themselves using the poop as the puck.  I’m lucky if the poop is covered in cat litter. God forbid if it’s not and they step in it… they sprint away from me and track their feces to places unreachable by humans thus forever leaving their excrement as eternal monuments. The only positive aspect of this poop-flinging is that it forces me to constantly vacuum and clean. My room alternates between being a toxic waste site and being spotless.

I have taken to sleeping on the couch because I found it hard to sleep with kittens running across my face at 3am. Aw, cute little kittens with their cute little paws running across you! No, you are mistaken. I know where those paws have been: in and around their own poop. Mostly IN.

As for the mama cat, Ginger Rogers, I had the misfortune of catching her out of her favorite hidey-hole under my bed. She looked at me with murder in her eyes and hissed her meanest hiss. She’s missing a few teeth so the effect is sort of a lisp-y hiss and is slightly less intimidating than a regular hiss. I think she might be hating me less because instead of hissing for thirty seconds while spitting, she only hissed for fifteen seconds while slowly retreating under the bed. I’ll take it!!!

- Daughter

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