Ok, so I'm sure your very first reaction is:
How the hell can you possibly be grateful for either of those things?
Well, because they're more than what they smell like.
My friend Moliére called me up this morning to ask me a sort of silly question. He's a cat person, as am I. Not like we have tails and pointy ears and chase little balls around, we just both have cats and really, really love them.
So, his question: "When you're cleaning the litter box does it ever feel like you're working in a zen rock garden?"
Know peace. Or pieces.. of poop
I laughed. That shit is funny. (womp womp)
But then I got into a big conversation with him about how actually, there really is a kind of zen there, one which I've talked about for years with my brother Spacey. I even call it "cat poop zen". When you're a cat person, you love all the cutesy funny things they do. The way they chase the laser pointer, or want to attack your shoelaces, the derpy faces they make when they sit on your chest and look lovingly in your face. You also take the bad with the good. My cat Yang likes to claw the steps. Yin forgets how sharp her claws are and is always trying to lovingly stroke me with her paws when I'm in bed. Sometimes I sleep naked. You do the math. Sometimes Yang overeats (because Yang), and then proceeds to throw up in gobs like a t-shirt cannon at a sporting event. Yin makes an AWFUL sound in the middle of the night that when translated into english comes out as "HEY WAKE UP... I'M ABOUT TO LEAVE A HAIRBALL FOR YOU... SOMEWHERE."
And of course, there's the litter box.
But I love my cats. They're like my children. And while in the moment all those things kind of suck, they also really don't suck. Because they're part of the package deal.
"Thanks for being such a good friend!"
Farts are like this too. In my entire romantic, dating history, I've always known a relationship really was going to be successful when the person I was dating was able to fart in front of me, and vice versa. Farting is like the gross universal connector amongst humanity. Everybody farts. And nobody looks like a rockstar when they do it. Some time in the recent past Queen Elizabeth farted. Somewhere in the White House, our commander-in-chief has cut the presidential cheese, and will do so again. It makes us human.
I certainly do it. Fairly often. Around Missy plenty, too. It helps me know I'm just a fragile, imperfect person, like everybody else.
Now if you'll excuse me, I've got a littler box to go scoop.