Editor’s Note || Our New York apartment is home to three humans and three cats: Snow White, Mango, and young Jasper.
Woke to pee 2:00 am. Entered bathroom. Narrowly avoided slipping on a small lake of Snow White’s urine. Beheld a giant fat shit she’d left on the stone bath mat. It was like the cinema sequence, underscored by dissonant trumpets, where the heroine realizes she’s entered a chamber of horrors.
Instead of screaming, I turned on the faucet so Snow White, who had followed me into the bathroom, could hop onto the sink and drink from the tap.
She’s 17, so by “hop” I mean climb at a moderate pace from floor to toilet seat to toilet tank to sink. (17 also explains why she has recently begun drinking exclusively from the bathroom taps, and excreting outside the litter box. And why I accept living with it. Acts of kindness are no guarantee of karmic reciprocity, but I can hope that when I’m Snow White’s equivalent age, someone will smilingly tolerate my dotty incontinence.)
By now, young Jasper had awoken and followed us in, so I spent a fast hand-waving minute guiding his sleek bullet-fast frame away from Snow White’s award winning turd, which had arrested his curiosity.
After Jasper skedaddled, and while Snow White was still busy sipping from the sink, I sprayed and mopped the floor.
Scooped up the giant shit.
Wiped down the place where it had been.
Washed my hands.
Finally, peed.
Washed my hands again.
Looked to see if the floor was dry. Semi. Good enough.
Laid a fresh dry giant wee wee pad on the damp but clean floor. Started to pick up the previously used wee wee pad, which one of the cats had folded into a sopping origami. As my fingers approached the wet paper, my skin somehow sensed how drenched it was. I left it where it lay.
Snow White, having sipped her fill, climbed down from the sink and glided away.
I left the damp origami to the side of the dry, newly laid wee wee pad and departed the chamber of secrets.
Somehow it had become 3:00 am. I heard the kids chatting in their room, so sent them a friendly middle of the night text: “Hi, fart heads.” Then I wiped my feet and climbed back into bed.
But sleep did not come. So I picked up my phone and pecked into it the words you’ve just read.
It is 3:52 am and I’m thinking I need to make an espresso and start the day. Good morning!
