For the last several months I've been trying very hard not to put my hands around Spencer's neck and strangle the life out of him. He's been pooping all over the house and it's not just a random accident. It's a deliberate attempt to get me to glue him to the driveway and run him over a few times with my minivan. That MUST be what he's after or else he wouldn't KEEP SHITTING EVERYWHERE! And when he's not shitting everywhere, he's licking himself and it makes this sloppy, slurpy sound that makes me want to blow chunks.
At first I thought, well...maybe he's just getting old and can't hold his bowels but then I stopped and thought about the reality of the situation and it just pissed me off. Okay, now if he just didn't make it outside in time you would assume that the poop would be a few paces from where he was sleeping or perhaps left as a gift by the back door but where do we find the poop? Upstairs in Bubba's bedroom. ON THE FOURTH FLOOR! This means that at some point Spencer thinks, "hmm, I really do feel a turd creeping towards my butt hole so I can either stand by the door so they'll let me out or I can walk up FOUR FLIGHTS OF STEPS to that bedroom up there called 'my personal shit zone.'"
That would be like me having to pee and walking out to the car, driving to my friend's house, waiting for her to leave and then squatting down on her porch to take a big piss. Not exactly an efficient process if you ask me.
It's not because he's jealous of Minor either. He's been doing this long before the kitten got here. I think he's seriously pissed off about something but I just can't figure out what it is. Maybe it's because I make him wear my bra on his head? Or perhaps because Bear refuses to share her goldfish crackers with him? I'm guessing that his anger is directed at Bubba because he keeps crapping in his room. But Bubba is always sweet to him. I would think that if he were going to be mad at anyone it would be Birdie. It's a miracle that he hasn't squatted and left turd diddles all over her bed for as much as she yells at him.
The best part of this ordeal is when he leaves the slimy poop somewhere and when I'm cursing under my breath as I'm cleaning, the kitten will come snooping around. And of COURSE he always steps in some poop and then prances around the house leaving poopy footprints in his wake. And that's when the stress overloads my brain and my head explodes into a million pieces. And then I die. But I don't even care because death means I get a day off from shampooing the carpet and cleaning poop!