Something's Not Right Here

Spoiler Alert: The temperature is in the 30's and I just spent the last two hours cleaning cat sh!t out of my sand box. I'm tired and grouchy.

I'm sure there are responsible cat owners everywhere. Even in my own neighbourhood. But not in my house.

We are not pet owners because we pre-know that we just aren't the responsible pet owner type. I don't like sh!t. Not the look, the smell, the feel of picking it up... nothing about it. But with pets comes sh!t.      

Don't get me wrong, I think cats are the cutest little shedding sh!tting fur balls ever.  All of my children live with cats; I see the joy they can bring.  And when we lived on acreage with mice, I also had a cat. A spayed one with an indoor litter box and vast acreage outdoors to sh!t in without filling the neighbour's flowerbeds and children's sandboxes.

I know it's only natural and I really don't have an answer for cat owners on how to keep your cat sh!t contained to your own yard. But surely if you are a city dweller your cat can be an indoor cat or you could make it some sort of outdoor enclosure if it really must bird watch and catch butterflies. Or keep it on a leash. At the very least, buy it it's own sandbox to be kept in your own backyard so the poor creature doesn't have to wander about weaving traffic looking for someone who does indeed have a sandbox. A sandbox intended for children to play in.

As I alluded to, I have just spent 2 hours, on the hottest day of the year, raking, re-raking, and then fine-tooth combing with my gloved hands, ridiculous amounts of cat sh!it out of my sandbox. I then liberally dusted the entire area with hot tub chlorine and proceeded to wash the sand. Yes, that's right. I washed dirt.

Oh, I partially blame myself. A couple of years ago I bought fresh sand for the 3' x 12' strip along the back of the house that sits under the cover of the fabulous roof my hubby built over our back deck.  Yes. I BOUGHT sand. Even though we live in a neighbourhood built on a sandhill. Well, it's more like an anthill, but it's comprised of sand.

The sandbox had been pooped in too many times so I replaced it with lovely grainy sand I purchased at Superstore on clearance-clearance at the end of the season.

For the first couple of winters I was faithful to cover it up with landscape fabric, knowing full-well that a sandbox with a roof over it will not get the protection of 3 feet of snow to save it from sh!tting cats. I think I was too focussed on going to Maui last October to remember to winterize the sand. Never again!

So while I am partly angry at myself, I can't help but take on a bit of victim mentality here. I am the victim here. It's my sand. In my own yard. I responsibly don't own pets because I know I'm not responsible.  Yet here I am having to clean sh!t and wash dirt in stifling heat while I try to think of creative ways to protect myself from future abuse.  Something's not right here.

The Verdict is In...

I’m sure you’ve seen the posts on social media this year about a recipe claiming to be an effective mosquito repellant that you spray around the yard and it will ward off the pesky buggers for 80-90 days.

I’m a skeptic by nature, so I didn’t immediately jump on board – partially because for years I’ve been taking 100mg of vitamin B1 daily when I’m going to spend time at the cabin or in other infested areas. And for me, it really works. I rarely get bitten by mosquitoes. However, they still drive me crazy when they are buzzing around the cabin in the night, so I thought I’d give this 90-day remedy a try. (90 days is pretty much the entire summer here in the north.) 

I was especially willing to try it after I read comments from people who heard it on Paul Harvey decades ago and claim they’ve been doing it ever since. If you are too young to immediately know who Paul Harvey is, google “The Rest of the Story” and you’ll see why he sets the standard for news stories that aren’t “Fake News.” 

So I headed to the lake last week after gathering all the supplies: A spray bottle, 3 cups of Epsom salts, 1 litre of cheap blue mouthwash and 3 cans of stale beer. I’m not sure what constitutes “stale” beer, but I opened it and let it sit in a jug for 2 days. 

It took me a couple of days to figure out what the smell reminded me of. I actually really liked it – it was a memory smell for me, and it took me back to my childhood bathroom. I was thinking maybe it smelled of the Poli-dent that my Mama used to clean her removable teeth. But I think it actually smells like a blue powdered toilet bowl cleaner we used in my youth. I can totally picture it in its shaker can, but I can’t recall the name of it. But that’s irrelevant. The point is, this alleged magical compound smells pretty darn good despite its contents. 

I sprayed all around the cabin property, concentrating around the cabin door, windows and the deck. I soaked down our chairs by the fire pit and showered the trees, planters (apparently it’s not harmful to plants) and the picnic table.

We didn’t spend the night but we sat lakeside for a few hours. We really didn’t see any bugs at all. But it was pretty windy, and that usually keeps the bugs at bay, so my skeptic self gave credit to the wind and my hopeful self resisted the urge to shout far and wide the merits of my new found use for beer.

We left town for a few days and it was about a week later when we returned to the cabin for the real test. 

I wasn’t expecting to head out to the lake quite as soon as we did, and in my haste to get ready, I forgot to take my vitamin B. But, in the back of my mind, I was thinking, “Ahh well, with my magical Paul Harvey solution I may never have to pee fluorescent yellow again.” (This is a side effect of taking 100mg of vitamin B) 

It had rained a bit while we were away and I still had ½ a spray bottle of magic, so I gave the backs and bottoms of our chairs another sprinkling as added protection. 

We did some puttering around, thinned out some dead bushes and other assorted cabin-life tasks before pouring a glass of wine to sit by the fire and gaze out at the lake and bask in the blessings of our peaceful corner of paradise. 

And suddenly it was as if a helicopter was taking off from our site, with an almost deafening sound of buzzing and the air swirling violently, due both to flying insect activity and our arms flailing around in attempt to swat away the swarms of mosquitoes, no-see-ums and fish flies. 

I have.never.seen so many bugs at the lake in the six years we have had the cabin. Seriously. 

It was a beautiful windless evening, and yet by 8:30 we were hunkered down in the cabin inhaling 2 burning mosquito coils and watching the sunset through the window. 

So yeah, the verdict is in. 

I’ll be going home to freshen my breath, fill my bathtub and drink the last 3 cans of beer from the 6-pack, while I soak in Epsom salts to try get some relief from these mosquito bites, and contemplate how to get rid of the layer of white salty residue that now graces everything I own at the cabin. 

And now you know the rest of the story.  

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