Detente

It's been a couple of months since that first optimistic foray into the second stage of the kitty pan training thingie.

Since then, I've attempted several times to move forward: all with similar results, all to no avail;  nights ending in frustration and ridiculous amounts of laundry and sleepless nights. 

Did I mention that I sleep on a waterproof mattress pad, like I'm an eight year old?  Yeah... I do.

So, I was sitting, talking to my lover about my stasis, and it hit me: I need to force this, or I'll never proceed.  I was realizing, in that moment, that I wasn't ready to concede defeat.  I also realized after sleepless nights, and loads of laundry seemingly innumerable, that something had to give, or I needed to give up this farce once and for all and invest in camouflaged kitty pans.

It was then that I decided to give them no alternative but to 'figure it out'.

When I left for work the next morning, I captured my two confused kitties and put them into the bathroom, shut the door and left them there for the day.

*gasp*

Before you report me to the ASPCA, let me tell you, that I put their scratching pad, and kitty condo in the bathroom.  I also left them with ample water and food (as I do each day) and of course, the phase two kitty pan.  In addition, I would only be gone eight hours, not my usual fourteen. 

I crossed my fingers, and tried to leave without pangs of guilt at Sophie crying and Tigrii scratching at the door. 

I went to the front yard and fed the elderly dog, and resolved to come home at lunch - no nap, no food for me.  And off I went, feeling like a bit of a heel, but resolved nevertheless to try my all before giving up.

I worked, my mind-numbing 'job-that-pays-the-bills', and at lunch raced home so that I could get there, do damage control and still get back before the precious alloted hour was up and my supervisor started chanting: "Where's Cristal? Where's Cristal?" as he does whenever I'm away from my desk (be it in the bathroom or whatever).

I got home to an eerily quiet house, and with equal amounts trepidation and fortitude, went to my bedroom and approached the bathroom door.

The mat, which is typically across the threshold, wasn't there. 

I opened the door.

Good God!  What a disaster!

All of the towels were pulled off the racks and onto the floor.  The cat food was spilled, and water dish had it's contents both sloshed all over the floor and soaked up by the hand towel that had been pulled into it.  There were toiletry items strewn about haphazardly, and generally it looked like a tornado had struck the inside of the bathroom.  The mat had somehow been pulled completely inside, and there was just general disarray.

And two little kitties: Sophie was asleep on the kittie condo, and Tigrii was behind the toilet.  I walked in and shut the door behind me.  I was happy to see some kitty waste deposited in the appropriate place and I touched them both, cleaned up, and left.

After work, I came home and resumed my evening routine, with no difficulty.  Sleeping that night, it was as if nothing had happened, and I deluded myself into thinking that I had things in hand.

The next morning, I realized: I had absolutely nothing in hand.

I woke up and got ready for work as I typically did, and then went to corral the cats.  Yeah.  Good luck with that.

I got Tigriikiisu, easily enough.  But, he follows me around and is generally like a dog in every way imaginable, including loyalty, trust, and is entirely not cat-like with his view of me, (that is, I'm his master, not his staff).

When it came time to scoop up Sophie, I found out why you should never tangle with a Princess.  She shot under the bed with surprising speed, and no matter what I did to attempt to coax her out, she simply went farther under the bed, as Tigriikiisu now started scratching at the bathroom door in accompaniment with her silent protest.

I went to the other side of the bed, nothing.  I even lifted the bed up (ouch), in an attempt to frighten her enough to find another more accessible (to me) place to hide.  Nope, she was clever.  I was pissed, and getting later and later for work.  Finally, I climbed up on the bed and using my old hide-and-seek skills, snuck over to the corner she was cowered in and got her.  What a job it was to wrestle her out from under the bed, she dug her claws into the carpet, howled in anger, and put up such a fight!

I was breathless, but unbeaten, and I swiftly put her into the bathroom with her brother and went to work.

That night, I again slept in a clean bed; and the bathroom, while trashed, wasn't beyond help.

Rinse, repeat - we did this for four days.  Thankfully, the big fight was only the first day, but I could see in her eyes how she resented me now - she looks more like a normal cat now.  ;-)

At the end of the week, I decided to give it a try.  I didn't really enjoy locking up the kitties in the bathroom each day and I wanted to see if they had, in fact, 'gotten it'.

They had.  I left them out of the bathroom the following morning, with a gentle admonition (I treat them as if they understand me, and they act like they do, so what's the harm really?) to be good and use the litter pan as prescribed.  With that, I went to work.  It was only an eight hour day, so I thought I might be able to get home, and see in a reasonable time, and of course, I wouldn't be up until dawn doing the sheets if I had failed.

The bed was clean.  The kitties looked normal.  The bathroom sighed audibly in relief.

All was well, phase two homeostasis was achieved.

Inconsistencies

Cats are like people, no two are truly alike, even within a close family.

My two kitties are brother and sister, and two more different kitties, one never did meet.  Princess Sophie, well, she's a princess.  Soft as a bunny with gorgeous jet black fur and golden eyes, she is just as prissy as they come.  She even sits like a lady.  Tigrikiisu, on the other hand, is as rough and tumble as one can get.  He does parkour in my bedroom each morning at 06:00 running along the walls like the room is one giant hamster ball and he might finally get it to move down the street if only he could run fast enough.

I figured Sophie with her delicate manners would take to this like a champ.

I was wrong.

When they both started using the litter pan with such great success, I decided to try going to the second phase; the insert has a pretty sizable hole in the center, and a ring of litter around the outside.  Ideally, the kitty scratches a bit and eventually learns to go through the hole.  Then you move on to the next phase: bigger hole, even less litter, until they just balance on the seat.  Sounds logical, right?  Humph.  Cats are not logical.

So, when I went to the next phase I was shocked when I came home after a long day of work to find that my bed had been *peed* and *pooped* in.  Seriously.  Yes.  One or both of my adorable, lovable kitties had defiled my sleeping place.  Worse yet, it was after eleven, and I had another fourteen hour day the following day, and had to now strip, wash, and remake the bed before sleeping.

Sigh.

Why was this so hard?

The next day was the same.

Ugh.

It's soooo late!  I slept on the stripped bed with a towel, finally at about 02:00.  I couldn't wait for the laundry to finish: too exhausted.

What a miserable night.

I can't do this.

I regressed, went back to the phase one kitty pan and held my breath.

When I got home: clean bed, and stuff to scoop and flush where it belonged.

OK, so maybe they're too young.  The pamphlet said I should start this process when they are about eight months old, and they were barely four months old.

So, I'll give them a little time.