Nice, clean sandbox . . .

I never go to the grocery store or anywhere else on  the weekend if I can avoid it.  I prefer the less crowded center of the week. But today BigEd announced, on his way out the door to work, that someone would have to get some cat sand soon .

This was his way of announcing that we were totally out of the stuff.  Dire situations require desperate remedies.  Some remedies are easier than expected.  There were about three shoppers (I exaggerate but not by much) plus errant employees wandering the aisles while trying to looking busy.

Four huge bags of kitty litter later, Snax and Miu are secure.  You would think one of them would teach itself to use the bathroom like our first cat did.  I know you can get kits to help teach them but Miu is 14 and a half  years old.  (J corrected me when I called her a 12 year old.)

She is quite capable of falling in.  In my time, I have fished toys, hairbrushes, clippers and towels from the toilet bowl, usually after a panicked shout of "Mom!"   

I draw the line at going in for a geriatric cat.