My orange cat, Lyndon Baines Conflake, peed on my mattress. With me in it. I love the smell of cat piss in the morning.
What I think happened: the day prior to the pee-cident, he had a close run-in with coyotes. Logically he then decided hell no to being outside. Fair. Reasonable, even. My opinion on keeping cats indoors when they don’t want to be indoors all the time is pretty much that. It’s safer for us to be inside all day too, but no thanks.
Back to the cat piss.
Lyndon spent the next 24 hours inside my Airstream, not interested in leaving to make a deposit of his finest essence outside. Ergo I woke up in a puddle of golden wee wee. I would’ve preferred waking up awash in sunshine, not urine. I guess they’re both yellow.
This meant the Airstream’s mattress was kaput. The pee soaked all the way through and I don’t care what products have been invented to supposedly rid an item of cat urine, I wasn’t even going to bother trying. Not even a tough call. The tinkle mattress went out, a new standard queen was squeezed through the door, down the “hall” and into my “bedroom” where it lives large and in charge of the space.
But what happened to the pee pee mattress? It got repurposed. Upcycled, some might say. Commandeered by my two Texas ranch dogs, Daisy and Dozer, who are perfectly fine with a little banjo music as their soundtrack. They love the mattress, caring not one tiny rat’s ass that it had been a pooling ground for Lyndon’s golden shower. In fact that just added to its appeal. The aroma.
Look at them:
I hate that there’s a mattress just… there. I would rather keep the trailer trash lifestyle at a safe social distance of 2,000 miles from wherever I am. However, the look on my dogs faces is melting my snobby heart. How am I supposed to insist on SoCal aesthetics when my two Black Mouth Curs are smiling so brightly while sun bathing on their trashy throne?
Ergo I’m tolerating the doggy day bed. Not well, hence this post. But I’m dealing. I love my doggos, and I want them to love their lives. Look at those faces and tell me they’re not enjoying the hell out of that bed.
I guess I’ll just have to find a decent place for it, hidden from my judging eyes.