Adulthood involves a number of things I never thought I would have to think about. I am not talking here about the big heavies of life – injustice, disease, mortality, and the like. I have a very fortunate life, and those big issues are thankfully not what I am confronting today. Rather, I am talking about the odd things I find myself doing from time to time, tasks imposed upon me by the responsibilities of parenthood or homeownership. Last night, I found myself doing one of these quirky tasks, and while I was completing it, I promised myself I would write it up so that you, dear reader, could compare notes with me.
(Here is where I would normally insert a relevant, humorous image to illustrate this story, but I decided against that, as I could think of no topical pictures that I actually wished to include with this post.)
One of our cats has diabetes. We treat him with daily insulin shots. Although his disease seems to be under control, he still drinks a lot and pees a lot. A lot. While we spent years cleaning out the litter box in our house twice a week, now we find we must clean it four or five times a week to keep the box tidy enough that the cats will use it and also to prevent the job from becoming too unpleasant for the cat box cleaner. As a result, we are generating a lot of kitty litter waste, and it is heavy. We were away for a week earlier this summer, during which time we had some diligent cat sitters, and when we came back and placed the garbage can on the curb, the garbage men chose not to take it, presumably because it felt like we were trying to throw out an anvil.
Now that I think about it, our garbage men are very good at not taking the trash. Inclement weather, plowing duties, a staggering number of recognized holidays, and a very thorough adherence to perfect Public Works rules compliance all contribute to an astonishing number of trash days in a year in which no trash is actually collected. With this in mind, when the next week’s trash day rolled around, I redistributed the trash bags among two trash cans, feeling certain this would be adequate for the garbage men.
Spoiler alert: it was not adequate.
Again, the trash truck drove by our uncollected garbage. While we are not having an especially hot summer, let me obliquely note that both two week old used cat litter and one week old kitchen waste in August are very potent, and well stocked with maggots. Today was the next trash day, and I have spent more time than I care to admit over the last few days pondering my strategy to entice the garbage men to take our garbage. Another week’s garbage means we were now up to three cans of garbage, so I did not have another container to distribute all this stuff. Instead, I pursued an alternative approach.
After midnight last night, I slipped out to the curb with gloves and a flashlight, and started rummaging through our dank, malodorous, and writhing trash cans. I fished out the various Target bags that contained the old kitty litter, and then I began to skulk around my neighborhood, looking for mostly empty trash cans into which I could deposit a bag of cat litter. I encountered one other person, out with their dog, and I cannot fathom what they imagined I was up to. Let me be the first to tell you it is very hard to look nonchalant while strolling around at midnight with a half-dozen bags of cat poop. Fifteen minutes later, I had finished my appointed rounds, and returned home to move around the remaining trash bags among our three cans. I went inside, washed up thoroughly, and went to bed, fingers crossed that this effort would do the trick, because I did not have a promising Plan B.
Imagine my relief this morning when my wife let me know that the garbage men had come by and had actually collected the garbage. Various half-formed visions of illicit dumpster dumping and awkward mugshots evaporated and I could go back to the glorious comfort of not thinking about my trash cans and their contents, which is my favorite state of affairs when it comes to trash cans. Now I will just worry about what the next unexpected curveball life will throw at me, and hope it is as simple as a surfeit of cat poop.