Sand cookie caper

Dogs and cats, I have decided, have extremely opposite opinions when it comes the the issue of the litter box. Cats view this as a place for making deposits, while dogs view this as a place for making withdrawals. "Sand cookies," if I have not explained previously, are what we call the "treats" that the dogs dig out of the litter box to snack on. The dogs know that they are not supposed to be digging through the litter boxes so they tend to do it when we aren't looking, and then run off with their sand cookies to devour them in some corner somewhere where they are less likely to be caught. "Leave the scene of the crime as fast as possible," seems to be their thought process. On the occasions when we do catch the dogs leaving the litter box area looking rather more guilty than usual we can yell "drop it" and they will, if they feel like it, listen once in a while and drop the sand cookie wherever they are standing.

On one occasion I happened to catch Scout sneaking out of the laundry room with a suspicious lump in his mouth. "Drop it....," I warned, and for once Scout obliged, spitting out the sand cookie on the floor in the hallway. I went to the bathroom to grab toilet paper to pick it up and dispose of it and by the time I came back Max had come out of the bedroom and was wandering down the hall. Coming upon the sand cookie Max seemed rather surprised to find it where he did not recall leaving it. He sniffed at it, and then proceeded, as any self respecting feline would, to scratch at the floor around it, trying in vain to cover it up. He obviously did not recall making a deposit in the hallway but tried to be responsible about it nonetheless. I found the sight of Max trying to clean up after Scout rather amusing. Max seemed mainly concerned that he may have gone to the bathroom outside of the litter box without recalling doing so. And Scout, for his part, failed to see any humor in the situation and seemed to focus only on the loss of his snack.

Interior design on the Unfarm

I generally consider myself to be a fairly decent, if amateur, interior designer. I can organize, tidy and toss furniture around to create something that most people are generally happy with. I am well known for my regular, minor furniture rearrangements - we have a summer look and a winter look for the living room. I am also well know for my major room rearrangements, which may or may not include new furniture, wall colors, and decorative painting. These transformations typically take place when I am left to hold down the fort on my own while the rest of the family is out of town for a few days. If you are a regular reader of this blog you may remember some of those projects. The kitchen, office, and TV/sewing room have been the most recent victims of my I-think-I-can-handle-it-itis. It is a terrible affliction that warps my thinking causing me to actually believe I can pull off a complete redo in only a few days with no help, and not have to spend the last few hours before my parents get home running around the house frantically trying to get paint to dry and clean the disaster zone I have created of the rest of the house. Spoiler: I am never found relaxing with a glass of lemonade or reclined on the couch with a good book when my parents pull up in the driveway. Sweating, breathless, and hiding rags and cleaner behind my back is a more accurate image. It may take a few days for my parents to come around to the new look, but as far as I know, they always do. 

"This placement will do quite nicely. Yes, the chi is good here."

Unfortunately, not everyone has been pleased with my designs. Apparently, my skills as a designer do not translate over for the lagomorph crowd. The rabbits are decidedly unhappy with where I choose to place things. The litter boxes, for instance, are always placed under the water bottles to catch any drips, the carpet is on the opposite side of the cage and the food bowl is in the middle. This is clearly not where things should go, and Ginger makes sure to let me know what she thinks of this arrangement. As soon as I put a fresh litter box in she will grab it with her teeth and hurl it about her cage. This almost always ends up with the hay strewn about all over the cage floor, the litter box on its side in the center, and her food bowl is often dumped out and can be found under one of the mounds of hay. Having done so much work redecorating her house she will then plop down on the cage floor previously occupied by her litter box, stretch her body out and kick her legs to the side. This is Ginger speak for, "I am thoroughly satisfied with how things are."

Ginger playing "king of the mountain" sitting on top of her upside down litter box. She thinks this is the best way to arrange her cage. As you can imagine, I disagree.

My response to her redecorating is to uncover and right her bowl, put her litter box back in its place, scoop up all the hay, and deposit it back into the litter box. The entire time I am doing this Ginger is squeaking and grunting at me and charging at my hand. This is Ginger speak for, "what do you think you're doing?!? I just got that all arranged and now you're messing it up! The feng shui was perfect! How is the chi going to flow in here now??"  I suppose I shall just have to resign myself to the fact that in all likelihood I will never be hired as a professional interior designer for the lagomorph society. I will have to content myself with maneuvering couches and painting walls. Speaking of which, the hall closet really could use a remodel...