You know when you’ve known someone long enough that it suddenly becomes ok to talk about poop? Yeah, me neither. But I do feel like I’ve known you all long enough to talk about Ralph and Weaz’s poop(s). I know a picture of La Weaz in her litter box may not be the most appetizing addition to the front page of a food blog, but I put that “Etc.” at the end of my tagline for precisely this reason: so I am free to talk about cat poop if I want to.
Here’s the thing… I share a bathroom with Ralph and Weaz. You might think this to not be such a punishment for me, especially if you are forced to keep your litter box out in open space, like the living room. (I used to have two–count ‘em, TWO–behind my COUCH. I feel for you. I do.) But I promise you it is terrible.
I love my cats. Don’t get me wrong.
But because of these two, when I’m in the bathroom, the one place I’m supposed to feel clean, I really just feel like I’m covered in a light film of litterbox dust. Mmmm. And the smell? These tiny creatures drop BOMBS.
YES YOU WEASEL.
And Ralph. Sweet LORD, Ralph can clear a room. Kill off plant life. Knock a grown man to his knees (his name is Stew). It’s awful.
So the point of this whole poopy story is that I spent like two hours last weekend researching the Cat Genie--God’s gift to the cat owners everywhere. Or so I thought.
This self-cleaning, poop-flushing wonder box sounds like a dream come true, but in reading about a billion reviews, I found that the people who like it just like it but the people who don’t like it HATE it. Maybe the haters are just more vocal, but that’s a red flag to me.
So here’s my question: Do you have a Cat Genie and was it the best purchase of your whole life? Alternatively, do you have a Cat Genie and have you had to clean out the clogged tubes yet, thus making it the WORST purchase of your life?
I must know. I know that even with this $300 investment I’d still be sharing a bathroom with cats, but their poops would now be handled by a robotic arm that sweeps through after the motion sensor goes off, tosses it into a side bin that is then flushed with water and deposited into your own sewage system by way of intricate tube design. The box itself is then filled and drained three times with water and finally a sanitizing solution and then dried and ready to accept another bomb. Sounds pretty good to me.
In dog news (yes, still dog news): Waldo is still here.
He’s kind of like that house guest who’s like: “Oh hey yeah, can I crash on the couch for couple nights?” And you’re like: “Yes, of course.” And he’s like: “Perfect.” And then he never leaves? And makes no effort to find another home? Or a job? Or a food that isn’t Doritos to eat? I made this hypothetical character up. But you know what I’m saying.
At any rate, Waldo is still here.