Cat Psychologist, Session One

I’m in need of a cat psychologist. I think I’m going to forgo the monies that could be spent on this endeavor, and I’ll represent the cat psychologist myself. I’m independent, wild, indifferent, and stupid, so I know I’ve got that much in common with the felines.

But do I think like the felines? Well, back in the day when I was getting fucked up all the time, I used to piss and shit wherever the hell I felt like occasionally and it wasn’t terribly malicious. I just didn’t know what the hell I was doing…and so maybe it goes with Nala.

CASE STUDY: Nala

Female Tabby, 4 years old. 11 lbs. Neutered, shots up to date. Wears a Hartz flea collar. Still has claws.


Nala has been in kittyjail since yesterday morning. I had to put her in the shower room with her food, some water, and her litter box. She’s been using the master bedroom as a pissbox, and my bed as a shitbox. One of us finds this unacceptable, and since I’m the one with thumbs, she’s been placed in her holding cell until something changes.

She was/is a fine predator. There haven’t been any lasting episodes with birds or rodents that she hasn’t resolved. It’s just gotten to the point where the cat is worse than the problems the cat was preventing. I’m at a loss, because it came all at once. I mean, I knew she was ticked off at me before she began this mess, but I’ve always thought she was a little ticked at me.

She’s been good company to me. I say “to me” because there have been episodes with my brother. Nala and Chopper, my brother’s dog, do not get along. They never have. I’ve known the dog since she was a pup, and Nala since she was a nearly grown kitten, so I’ve got long histories with all parties involved. Nala’s been known to hiss and spit at my brother, maybe because she can smell Chop-dog on him. All I can smell right now is catpiss…

I found the latest offending area yesterday morning. So, for the third time in a week, I’m peeling off the bedspread and covers and cleaning the mattress… (I’ve already thrown out the original spread for the bed this summer, in an unrelated “catsick” episode.) Well, I grabbed Nala by the scruff of her neck and put her face right in the catpiss. It must have been going on there for three days or more, because of the surrounding layers of repeat offenses. I’ve heard, and I understand that doing this to the cat is unlikely to have any lasting impact on the cat, except inasmuch as she will resent me quite a bit more. I couldn’t help it. I was pissed. And it was the only thing I could think to do. I think she’d just completed her work there, and she was still in the room. Wrong place, wrong time. So I asked her fairly calmly, “What is this? Why do you think this is necessary? You haven’t used your box in three days? Why? This cannot continue.” And we walked to the shower room, where I’d already set up her box, food and water. I knew she’d been pissing and shitting everywhere, but this was the first time I’d been close to catching her in the act.

So I go about my business for the day, and I completely ignored Nala. I didn’t go in there once to see how she was faring. We just needed a break. This morning, I went to the kittyjail. She’d shit in the shower stall. I figured she would, because she’d taken to crapping there in the past week. The thing with the shit evolved, it seems. The piss just followed in a decision that the box was to be used by Nala for nothing. Anyway, the result was predicable and repeated behavior, so I swept up the poo, and asked Nala why the hell things were going down in this way. She exited the room for a bit, but she was hooked. It was also breakfast time, and her water dish was also in kittyjail. She didn’t even get a proper exercise. It was feeding and cleaning time, and Nala probably didn’t spend more than a couple of minutes out of her stall. I didn’t have to coerce her to return. She’s always hungry.

Again, I had a one-sided conversation with the cat. “Do you see what I’m doing here, Nala? This is your shit that you’ve left four feet from your box. Why?!? I just don’t get it. You don’t have too many options here, so you’re going to have to figure this one out.”

I tried to express myself with actions more than words, since we’ve been on a pretty bad basis lately. It’s maddening because I know she knows that’s where to shit and piss. She did it in the same way for almost four years. She couldn’t have gotten stupid overnight. She was already dumb. (Though I admit, almost bright for a cat. At this moment she has certainly outsmarting me.)

Our first couple of sessions have been downright unproductive. I do have the bed cleaned up again—the spreads at least. I’m undecided on whether to replace the bedding or to cover the bed with plastic. I’m afraid Nala has met her match here with the kittyjail. I think she’ll crack under the pressure, if she can figure out why she’s in the predicament she’s currently in. I didn’t think I’d have to give Nala cat treats as a grown cat for using the litter box properly, but if she ever uses it again, that’s exactly what’s likely to happen. I’d keep her away from any and all of the bedding in the house, but it’s nearly logistically impossible. And I’m afraid this thing will spread to the carpet. If that happens, we’re in for a major episode.

So it goes, for now. This is less than riveting reading, to be sure. I’ve committed to writing something for a half-hour or hour a day lately, so we have some drivel. Maybe someday I can clean up the drivel in both my writing and in my life.