One issue we've been having is that Minnie the cat keeps relieving herself on the carpeted stairs landing. Cats are notoriously finicky animals and the way they deal with displeasure is to go outside of their litter box. This must be what Minnie is doing, because in the past year the poor cat has been through the following:
- A baby was born and stole the attention away.
- Minnie was moved into a strange house with two other cats.
- One of the cats has terrorized her from the start.
- Routines like meal time have been changed, not to mention her type of cat litter and food.
- Her owners are stressed out.
We've tried everything. We've moved her litter box all over the house, to keep Minnie away from the cat that torments her. Bruce's mom bought some miracle spray online that claimed it would make cats feel happy (wow, can't believe that didn't work!). We've put tin foil down on the stairs because allegedly cats hate it. We've tried giving Minnie a lot of attention and positively encouraging her to go in her litter box. Nothing has worked.
Before work last week, Bruce came downstairs and said "Good morning" to his folks. His mother didn't respond. Bruce knew right away that the cat must have done it again. The way his mother so chillingly received him ruffled his feathers, however.
After some prodding, Bruce's mom stated, "This can't happen anymore."
Groggy and frustrated, Bruce burst out, "Fine! Then we'll move out!"
I spent all day convincing Bruce that we have to keep living here if we want to fix our future. As much as I would love to, if we moved out now we'd probably be making ends meet for the rest of our lives. There has to be another solution.
The problem lies in a lack of communication and handling the situation badly. Bruce's mom is mainly exasperated because she feels that she is the one always cleaning up Minnie's mess. She doesn't know about the times that Bruce has cleaned, because he doesn't say anything. He doesn't want to distress his parents further.
And what about me? Well, on the days I'm not working in the morning, I sleep until the baby wakes up. Usually 7:30 or 8. Then I change her and feed her. It can be hours after the cat has done her business before we venture downstairs. Someone's already taken care of it. Some days I don't even know it happened.
By the time Bruce got home from work, he had calmed down. So had his mom. He apologized, and explained that she needed to talk to him about issues, instead of being dramatic and giving him the cold shoulder. She apologized, too.
While this was happening, I could tell that Bruce's dad was miffed about something. He was silent for a while. Then, when everything was getting normal again he blurted, "You know, Bruce, you could help things by cleaning up once in a while and not always letting your mother do it."
I couldn't take it anymore. That's when I yelled. "I would clean it up, but I don't even know it's happening! I don't hear about any of this until afterwards! You can't clean it up without anyone knowing and then be mad when no one else cleans it up! Why don't you just wake me up or knock on my door if you want me to take care of it?! I have no problem cleaning it up; she's our cat!"
I've never raised my voice to them. I was shaking. Everyone looked at me, stunned for a moment. Bruce's dad said softly, "No, Annie. We wouldn't want to wake you up. We're just upset, that's all."
"We all are," Bruce admitted.
Later, Bruce and I discussed what happened. "Do you think it was bad when I yelled at them?" I asked, worried.
"You yelled at them?" He blinked, looking confused. Then he laughed. "Oh, Annie! You yelling at people is like a mouse getting mad. You think you're making a lot of noise, but you're not. It didn't seem like you were yelling at all. You were just being sensible."
In my head, I was a lion. I guess I'm not as ferocious as I'd like to be.
Things remained tense for several days. Bruce's mother banished Minnie to the basement. She has to stay in there until she starts using the litter box down there and hopefully works things out with the other cat, Sasha. This really pisses me off, but I don't see an alternative. Part of me secretly hopes Minnie realizes she has claws and Sasha doesn't. I figure that'll fix the bully.
If we had our own house, this wouldn't be happening. Our cat wouldn't be destroying my in-laws' home and we wouldn't all be fighting. But we do live here. And I try to remember that even though they're charging us rent, Bruce's parents are still helping us. We are living under their roof.
The only way to get out of this with our relationships intact is by communicating effectively. By not letting our emotions get the best of us. We can't be like animals, hissing and growling.
We're all going to have to find a way to get along, without using our claws.
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