Now for the other, slightly unpleasant, part of my story. Our cat, Budda, is a pooper. Seriously. He loves to poop, but he doesn't poop in his designated space: the litterbox. Before Gus, it was only the occasional poo right outside the litterbox in the utility room, where there is linoleum and it wasn't a big deal to clean up. Unfortunately, the advent of Gus apparently ticked Budda off. One day it was poo in the dining room and then again a few days later. Then it was a poo in the office/library when my parents were over. Then a few days ago it was a pile in the hallway outside the upstairs guest bath. That was the last straw. I was so frustrated and was ready to send Budda packing back to my parents house. My fear was that Gus would find the poo before me and I'd have a brown-smeared grin from my little peanut and a stinky kiss from a poo-tongue. No thanks.
Mom and I have discussed options when it comes to Budda's poo issue. If it was medical (ie diabetes or something) that we could treat, we would. However, if it wasn't medical and it continued, there was little we felt we could do. Budda is 12 and we can't have him pooing around the house and he can't go outside because he's declawed. My frustration, anger, and hurt made the bathroom poo the final strike and I was putting all his stuff together to take him back to my parents when Nick convinced me to give him one more chance. We love Budda and he's a part of our family, so I decided not to give up yet. Nick had been suggesting we take the lid off the litterbox to see if that helped him with his poo issue. I had no faith that it would help anything, but I agreed that that was the very last thing we could try before Budda found himself back at Mom and Dad's. Off came the lid and to bed Nick and I went.
Morning. The smell of poo wafts through the house. I wake up angry and upset and run through the upstairs and then the downstairs searching for the telltale pile of poo while yelling at Budda that he is dead and telling him what horrible tortures I am going to apply to his raunchy inappropriate-pooing butt. Then I can't find the poo. And I have images of it being in some crazy place that I can't see or reach to clean up like on top of the fridge or something. I'm wondering if he's managed to squeeze his butt under the couch to poo there when I decide to check his *gasp* litterbox. And lo and behold, there it was! Poo in the litterbox! It wasn't covered, which explained the smell, but that was an easy fix. (I kicked the box to shift the litter over it. Hey, it was early and I wasn't in the mood to clean it yet. Question: is anyone ever in the mood to clean a litterbox? That's one to ponder.)
Now, I bet you're wondering what the heck do pennies from heaven and Budda's poo issue have to do with one another. And no, Budda didn't poo a penny from one of our dear departed loved ones into his box. That would have been a neat trick! However, when I left the utility room, there on the floor right by our couch in the family room was a penny. Nick and I had been up until almost 5am and no one had been there on the floor. I also cleaned up the family room right before we went to bed and there was no penny. It just appeared and I am firmly convinced that it was my Nana. She must have guided Budda to the litterbox because she didn't want us to give up on him. It sounds crazy, but I have no doubts that it was my Nana. (And P.S. Budda has since pooed in the box for a second time and we've had no accidents, knock on wood. Thanks for the help Nana!)
Don't judge. When you miss someone as much as we miss Nana, you tend to see that person where and when you need to. She makes her presence known and it's important to us to be open to it. This post was meant to be humorous, but the penny part made me and Mom cry. She was there and that makes me feel happy and comforted. Budda's poo issue resolved by a penny from heaven.
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