What is Litter? A Philosophical Tale

So tell the truth.

When you read the title of this lil' ole blog did you stop and go, "What the scoop?"

Well that's the same reaction I had when I read this letter:

Dear Stanley,

My owner just purchased a SmartScoop and we are all, like, tres excited. But then came the dénouement...we were tres perplexed as to the type of litter it would require. Help us, s'il vous plaît.

Ciao,

Persuadable Persian

Dénouement? Like, tres perplexed? Fan mail from a faux feline from France? And the worst part is, I know her. Her name's Peg and she's from Philly. And the closest she's been to french are the fries at McDonald's. Geez, get a column and everybody gets pretentious.

But the question is at least legit. And I'll restate it for those of you who don't speak wannabe: What kind of litter should I use with my SmartScoop? And the answer...

Dear Persuadable,

Use cat litter. More specifically, clumping cat litter. Don't use clay, non-clumping, pine- or newspaper-based litter. And don't use crystals or pearls. Seriously. Finally, don't go changin' to try and please me...sorry, but it was right there. I meant to say, don't go changin litter brands unless you absolutely have to. Nobody likes that.    

Did that clear up your tres confusion? You're not foolin anyone, you know?

Serve No Advice Before Its Time

So, there I was, hangin with my Himalayan homies -- I love alliteration. Anyways. They say to me, "Stanley," (cause that's my name) "You know a lot about all things CAT."

It's true. It's a takes-one-to-know-one kinda deal. But I digress.

To make a long story short, they asked me to give them and their humans a little advice. Problem was that when they asked my paws were itchin' and I needed a wicked scratch. So I excused myself to find a scratching post (I don't like to use the furniture unless I'm makin' a point) and suggested they put pen to paper and jot down a few questions.

When I came back, they'd written down a few questions -- except for Auggie. He was just chasing the pen cap all over the room. Not the brightest scoop in the litter box.

So I read their first question...and it hit me. I should put my vast wisdom to work. I could be a columnist, like Ann Landers. Or Dear Abby. Or those Car Talk guys. I could be famous-er. I could change the world-- and, be honest--who would you rather have run the world?

So. Without further ado. Cue the fanfare and streamers. Live on the Interwebs. The one. The only. The first ever, suitable for framing, Franklin Mint collectible version. The pilot episode of the column that will redefine life as you know it....

Introducing the Ask Stanley column on this very blog. Ready?

Dear Ask Stanley,

My human has finally got the message that our old litter box is not for me. It only took 3 rugs. So, we're in the market. Should we get a SmartScoop?

Signed,
Clumped in Cleveland.

Dear Clumped,

Yes.

Welcome to the Odor Revolution

Lately, people, cats and one truly irritating Yorkshire Terrier have been bombarding me with a single question: Why the Odor Revolution? The Yorkie asks repeatedly, in a high-pitched voice, while jumping up and down like some deranged jumping thing in the window of the apartment in the adjoining building.

It's amazing how sound carries.

The short answer is: It's revolting. We're talking litter boxes here. Like when the human strolls by, flicks a glance boxward and mutters, 'S not so bad yet. NOT SO BAD?!! I gotta stand in that. You think cats are olfactorilly impaired -- that means we can smell, too, Yorkie. And stop licking the window!

The longer answer is: The Odor Revolution is nothing less than a call to action. I am calling on cats and humans everywhere to stop the stink. Take back the box.

For humans: this means scooping -- bad smells out; clean litter in. Roll up your sleeves. When I'm in box I wanna close my eyes and feeling like I'm strolling the white sands of the Riviera. When I step out and stretch, that's your cue to "return the environment to its pristine state." So if you can't make the commitment -- make an investment in odor removal technology. Aka, SmartScoop. Aka, a rose by any other name shouldn't smell like old litter.

For cats, this means protest. When the box needs cleaned don't be shy. Let your voice be heard. Hide their keys. Leave surprises in their shoes. Howl at 4:00 am. Leave SmartScoop and fresh-scented litter coupons lying about in obvious places -- like a shredded magazine, if you catch my drift.

Follow my voice...or read it, Duh. Join me in eradicating litter box odor! Welcome to the Odor Revolution.

Battle Stations, please.

Convenience is Odor-Free Bliss

I got this friend -- Boots. I know, stupid name. But a great guy; give you the kibble out of his bowl.

Boots has this "inconvenient" home life -- his human doesn't like to scoop. Doesn't like to empty until the "ambiance" makes the wallpaper curl. It's so bad that when we're out on the prowl, I have to make excuses why I can't stop up. The last one was really lame -- "I'm havin a new squeaky put in my favorite mousy." I'm embarassed thinking about it.

And all because his person wants her life to be convenient. Then get a SmartScoop. Hello?

Boots isn't a big eater, so with SmartScoop, she'd only have to empty the bag every week, week and a half. Change the litter once a month. What could be more convenient? A butler, sure, but be realistic. With SmartScoop it's like no one even uses the box -- and Boots does most of the time.

SmartScoop does the sccop-n-rake automatically. No mess. No odor. We're talkin pure cat bliss. With a capital P. I tried to tell her. I stood outside on her bedroom window ledge -- no way I'm going in until she changes that box -- and yelled, "You want convenience? Get a SmartScoop! While your neighbors can still stand to live next door to you!"

But all she did was throw a slipper at the window and tell me to stop caterwaulin'. Is that even a word?

Stupid human. I guess there's a reason they call it "Smart" Scoop.

Clean Litter - Warm Heart

Let me ask you a question. What's the worst thing in the world? Bar none.

I know all you liberals will say things like "the Middle East" or "the economy." Boo Hoo. Cry me a river. You couldn't be more wrong. Because, truly, what could possible be worse than settling down in the ole box with a few pages of the latest People, and stepping in...let's just call it "old times." Barf. Barf. Barf. Starting to see reality, yet?

My human was what you'd call a "casual scooper." No discipline. No sense of urgency. My box was as neglected as that dorky guy she used to go out with. The one who keeps calling. But I digress.

I was getting desperate. So I did a little "out of the litter box" thinking. Every time she left her computer unattended, I typed in the SmartScoop website.  Then I'd stand beside my box and do my best Pagliacci -- at the top of my lungs. After about a month she started to notice a pattern. So I upped my game with a few nocturnal visits to the shoes she laid out for work the next day. Who says humans can't be trained.

Long story short: I got my SmartScoop motorized litter box and she got clean shoes. Win-win.

Later, litter buddies.