You have to read this post of Amy’s. It provides the perfect backdrop for this:
I have a cat. I didn’t want a cat.
Late last summer this really adorable kitten (we live on a farm…everyone assumes we are the local animal shelter, they drop off cats all the time!) showed up on the back porch. I quickly informed the husband and children that we were not, under any circumstances, keeping the cat. No matter that he was very cute. And that he had blue eyes.
Then the cat caught a mouse. Outside the storage building. Quickly and efficiently. “He stays!” I boldly proclaimed, thinking cheap cat food and a flea treatment will take care of his most basic needs. Charlotte named him Cookie Monster.
When the temperatures dropped, we decided to bring the poor dear inside, he was rather scrawny (he’d been fighting off assorted wildlife for his dinner)…and made all of the arrangements to accommodate a feline, including the dreaded litter box.
The smell, was unbearable. We tried every type of litter, scooping twice daily, deodorizing…to no avail.
Then a good friend stopped by for a visit. She took a good long look at our cat and said, “I think he’s a Rag Doll…”
“Yeah…he is kind of cute, but the smell!” was my reply.
She proceeded to explain that Rag Doll was the breed. A fairly expensive and desirable breed and we should do a little research.
Sure enough, this “throw away” cat, is without doubt, a Rag Doll. Check the comparison:
Well, the cat’s diet improved dramatically after that revelation, away with the cheap food! Amazingly, the “stinky litter box” problem disappeared just as soon as his highness’ diet was improved.
The great thing about Rag Dolls: they are more dog than cat. They don’t pounce on you, they don’t have the energy to chase a ball of string let alone tear up your curtains. They can be picked up and placed in any position imaginable…and they’ll stay there! Guests have stepped on our cat…he just lays there. He is absolutely enormous now…getting bigger every day.
The downside: he thinks he’s a dog. He simply refuses to urinate in the litter box. He must go outside or he’ll “go” all over the kitchen floor. Huge puddles. Like a dog.
The worst yet? He peed on me. Last night.
Quick. Tell me he’s a really pretty cat. Or it’s Craigslist.