Day 2 -- Elevating the litter box (a little bit)

Okay, I got greedy. The next series of steps involve elevating the litter box, bit by bit, until it is about as tall as the toilet. But, flush from yesterday's success, and with plenty of confidence in my cat's non-fussiness, I decided to lift the litter box by quite a bit:

At least I finally put my computer science textbooks to good use!

Kratos didn't seem to like it too much, however.  He hung around the house, like yesterday, wasting time and drinking an abnormally large amount of water.  Worried that he couldn't see it's the same litter box, I lifted him up and brought him to it several times, only to have him escape quickly each time.  It is not until two hours later that he finally makes the entrance into the bathroom.  Slowly, he sizes up the new setup, carefully examining what's under the litter box.

Like my girlfriend who knows she must study for her finals but, just to procrastinate and put it off a little further, goes and checks Facebook instead, Kratos did not immediately hop into the litter box.  Instead, he hung around the bathroom a little longer, and then jumped onto the toilet to take a sip of water.

Yes, Kratos drinks from the toilet.  And yes, this is one habit that will require some adjusting once (and if!) he starts pooping into it!

After much procrastination, Kratos finally decided to do the deed.  All was well, and the smell of success filled the air!  That is, until Kratos started his fruitless attempt to bury his poop again:

Despite the litter failure, though, Kratos has advanced for another day.  Well done!

Day 1 -- Moving the litter box into the bathroom

The first step is simple enough -- Kratos must get used to pooping in the bathroom.  I moved the litter box there, and waited with baited breath.

Usually, Kratos poops right after eating his dinner.  But tonight, pooping did not seem to be on his mind.  Instead, he wandered around the apartment aimlessly, as if unsure what to do next.  Eventually, he sat at the old litter box location, meowing a sad meow of confusion and request.  I lifted him up, and put him into the litter box in the bathroom.  He escaped quickly, and this repeated for a few times until I gave up and ducked back into my bedroom.

Then, I heard that familiar scratching noise.  Uh-oh, I thought.  It sounded like Kratos scratching the wall, and for a moment, I was scared that he had pooped in the old location.  I rushed out of my room, and found Kratos indeed scratching the walls, but thankfully, without any poop, the ceremony only half-complete.  I smiled, and kept waiting.

Eventually, he made his way to the bathroom, cautiously and suspiciously.  He examined the box carefully, but when he saw me peeking in, he ran out, embarrassed.  It looked like he really wanted to go -- but was still very nervous about it.  He came back, ran, and came back again, this time bravely stepping into the box and -- yes! -- dropped a glorious mound of poop!  It was followed by the usual ineffective burying motions, but oh, at last, the poop was in place!

Kratos was embarrassed by all this.  After pooping in the new location, he suddenly became exceptionally affectionate, purring loudly next to me and consistently requesting my attention.  When I tried to walk into the bathroom to clean up the mess, he did something surprising that he had never done before -- he bit my toe, trying to prevent me from entering.  Is he feeling guilty about pooping in a new place?  Is he feeling nervous, unsure of himself and his torturous decision?  Is he afraid that he has done something wrong?

Whatever worry that was going through his head, I tried to put it out of his mind by showering him with head scratches and tummy rubs.  Well done, Kratos!  This was your first step towards kitty perfection, and you have performed well!

Kratos my cat... and his litter problem

Kratos is my cat, and a very cute cat at that.

He is also, in general, a very clever cat.  He hunts for kibbles with mighty accuracy and thrift when I toss them onto the ground.  He stalks spiders and insects for hours on end.  He plays with, and masters his toys quickly.  And he even knows how to shake my hand!  I was almost ready to declare him the cleverest kitty to ever walk the earth, except for one small problem...

He does not know how to bury his poop.

It is not for lack of trying.  After he does his business, Kratos understands the need to cover up the smell, and does all he can to do so -- except all he can isn't quite enough.  He delligently uses his paws to scratch everything around him -- the litter box, the wall, the floor, the air -- everything but the litter itself.  And, it is only after countless minutes of fruitless labor and many useless scratches on the sides of the litter box that he gives up, saddened and defeated, like a confused lighthouse operator who pulled all the levers and pushed all the buttons but still could not get the light to turn on.

It makes no sense; Kratos otherwise has excellent hand-eye coordination.  I have tried showing him how to bury his poop properly, but to no avail.  Everyday, Kratos repeats his dance of frustration and eventual disappointment, with zero improvement in his almost three years of existence.  And everyday, I wonder if there were a better way.

Until I realized, of course, that there is.

What if I simply removed litter from the equation?  I spent a few days working out the math, and I'm pretty sure that it turns out:

Kratos - litter = happy kitty of perfection

Indeed -- I decided that I will toilet-train Kratos.  It will be a long, potentially endless journey of trial, error, courage, setbacks, and poop smears, eventually culminating in either the ultimate triumph of the cat-folks, or a crushing and disappointing return to the banality of daily failures.  

And this blog will be its diary.