This summer we cleaned up our back porch, which included moving out a bunch of stuff (massive dining room table, chest freezer, miscellaneous building supplies and junk) and repainting (fresh green on the walls, white ceiling and trim). We scrubbed the floor to within an inch of its grey-green life and moved Erik’s motorcycle table and exercise bike in. The porch as been a work-in-progress, with the initial inspiration for gussying it up being Daughter’s graduation party. We’ve rather enjoyed having the extra room as living space. Except for the cat pee.
Not long after we finished painting and had moved in an area rug and the motorcycle table, we caught Rosalyn, our elderly stateswoman cat, peeing on the rug. We cleaned the spot and thought we were done with that, but we were sadly mistaken. We learned of her adoption of the back porch as her litter box when a strong odor of urine greeted us as we entered the front door. Oh, yeah, that’s the height of aromatic sweetness.
I pulled up the rug and discovered that about half of it had been peed on. Likely, our other two cats, Stinky and Inky, were in on the act, too. Fearing that our Old Lady Rosalyn (a.k.a. Roz) was getting too decrepit to go up and down the stairs in order to visit the litter boxes in the basement, I moved one of the litter boxes up to the back porch.
Since that time, I’ve discovered that the upstairs litter box sees heavier use than the one in the basement. I wonder if our kitties prefer the upstairs box because the surroundings are pleasant. The back porch is full of light and fresh air, rather than the dimness and mustiness of the basement. By golly, our cats must have an aesthetic sense. Although, now that I’ve learned that cats enjoy earwax, maybe what I’m taking for an aesthetic sense is really just laziness.