THE BOOK OF LITTER
Kitty Litter, Litters of Kitties—Why Catakism Is Littered with Litter
I. Getting Litteral
Few words are more intimately connected to cats than the word “litter.” The word, of course, has dual meaning in the world of cat stewardship: it’s the stuff we fill litter boxes with, and it’s the stuff cats fill our homes with—namely, litters of kittens. Think of the word litter and you think cat or kitty.
Both meanings of the word are central to Catakism, because they both represent two totally natural feline processes—elimination and reproduction—that cats are perfectly capable of handling on their own but that Catakists insist on “managing.” Believers insert themselves into these processes because of their need to feel needed by cats. The thought that cats can get by perfectly well without them is too terrifying for the true believer to contemplate.
The way we handle both litter boxes and boxes of litters is emblematic of the entire Catakistic process.
What few people realize, many Catakists included, is that litter—that stuff that comes in industrial-size bags and for which there is no known legitimate way to dispose of once it has been soaked with, um, liquid gold—is almost single-handedly responsible for the rise of modern Catakism. It allowed cats and humans to develop the cozy domestic relationship they currently enjoy.
It’s true. Without cat litter, there would be no pink nail pawlish, no cat videos, no crystal stemware filled with gourmet poached prawn. Essentially no Catakism. And there is an actual legitimate historic reason for this (no joke).
II. The “Saints” of Catakism
If Catakism had saints—of the human variety (it certainly has kitty saints, millions of them)—there are two figures who would stand at the very top of the holy panoply: Ed Lowe and Kay Draper. For it was a chance encounter between these two humans in 1947 that gave rise to the greatest single invention in the history of Catakism. Cat litter.
From a Catakist’s perspective, the meeting of Lowe and Draper has the significance of Lennon meeting McCartney, of chocolate meeting peanut butter, of macaroni meeting cheese. Without these two humans, cat litter might never have been invented, and Catakism might still be wallowing in the dark ages.
To understand the significance of the movement these two seemingly unremarkable people launched, we need to travel back in time.
Cats Didn’t Always Sleep on the Tem-purr-pedic!
From the time of Man’s first meeting with Cat thousands of years ago until the end of World War II, cats and humans had a cordial, but detached relationship with each other. Humans lived in the nice, clean, warm homes, and cats lived outdoors. Cats would come around to visit, and humans would feed and stroke them, but kitties basically remained outdoor animals. Wild, free, self-sustaining. At best they lived in human garages and barns, where they played the role of “mouser.”
By the time of the great World Wars, though, many humans, longing for a closer relationship with Jinx and Bobtail, had begun to put out old baking pans filled with sand, sawdust, ashes, or shredded paper for their cat friends to poop in, and cats had begun obliging. These pans, however, were placed in garages or back entryways, not in the heart of the human home.
And then it happened …
III. The “Kitty Hawk” Moment
Ed Lowe had a family business that sold industrial absorbents, such as sand, sawdust, and kiln-dried clay, which were used for soaking up oil spills around machinery. One day, Ed’s neighbor, Kay Draper, came to his door and asked if he had any sand she could use for her cat box, because she was tired of cleaning up little pee-scented ash footprints. Ed’s stock of sand was frozen solid, so he suggested she try the dried-clay product, which was called Fuller’s Earth, instead. Ed then forgot about the whole thing.
Two weeks later, Kay came back to his door looking for more Fuller’s Earth and raving that not only was it much more absorbent than sand or ash, but that it also controlled odor much better. The kitties loved it too. Lowe realized he was on to something. He re-bagged some of his product, wrote “kitty litter” on the bags, and brought them to the local hardware store to sell. He then began demonstrating his product at cat shows and crisscrossed the country, selling it at pet shops, hardware stores, and out of the trunk of his car.
And thus an empire was born. (And, in effect, so was Catakism.) In 1964, Lowe created the Tidy Cat company, and by the end of his life he dominated a half-billion-dollar-a-year industry. The PBS show Small Business School credits him for being the quintessential entrepreneur who built a “huge business from nothing”—though it could more accurately be said that he built a huge business from sh**.
IV. The Historical Significance
The birth of kitty litter was a monumental turning point in human-feline relations and represents the birth of modern Catakism. Why? Because it was at that precise moment that cats officially began pooping and peeing inside human homes. This immediately led to them living in human homes 24/7 and giving birth in human homes, and holding court over them three hundred and sixty-five days a year.
The birth of litter was the birth of the feline as a domestic creature fully under the care and feeding of humans. This was also the birth of the human as a submissive creature fully under the control and mastery of cats. Litter was the brilliant invention that led to the origin of nearly all of the trappings of hardcore Catakism: the climate-controlled cat condos, the gourmet entrées, the Santa hats, the cat hotels, et catera.
So thank you Ed Lowe and Kay Draper. Without your invaluable contribution, cats might still be under the illusion that they could poop, pee, eat, drink, and have kittens outdoors, on their own. And where would that leave millions of dedicated Catakists? With way too much free time on their hands.
V. The Evolution of Litter
To appreciate the brave new world that Catakism has created since the invention of litter, one need only look at the evolution of litter itself. A few short decades ago it came in one variety: regular. Today there is a cornucopia of competing products that fills an entire aisle of the supermarket and leaves the novice cat worshiper as confused as the father of a teenage girl staring in horror at the wall of feminine hygiene products.
The variety of cat litter available is evidence of the absurd level of fanaticism we show toward cats. We have created this finely customized world for cats and cats only. Why? Not because cats need it, but because it makes us feel better to know we are serving our master at the highest level possible. It’s all about us, right?
Here are just a few of the features and refinements that have been added to cat litter, and from which the dedicated Catakist must now carefully choose:
Odor-locking/odor-neutralizing crystals. No one knows what these mysterious blue crystals are made of (though they look suspiciously like a famous blue crystal product manufactured by a guy known as Heisenberg), but consumers are urged to believe that they not only cover up odors, but lure them in and trap them in hermetically sealed crystalline chambers.
Advanced clumping. Clumping is a highly desirable feature in cat litter because who doesn’t want nice tight clumps of cat urine? Regular clumping? Please. Only advanced clumping for Catakists.
Sealing. What exactly is “sealing” as it pertains to litter? No one knows for sure; perhaps an army of miniature SWAT technicians kipnaps your cat’s feces and coats them in quick-sealing industrial enamel.
Bacteria control. Because it’s vital that litter’s bacteria be tightly controlled.
Multi-cat formula. No litter manufacturer has ever explained the actual difference between cat litter designed for one cat and cat litter designed for multiple cats. Does the multi-cat brand hand out monogrammed moist towels to each distinct user? Perhaps they should.
Scoopable. It is important that kitty litter be “scoopable,” because, as we all know, the bargain-brand variety is physically repelled by scoops, making it impossible to dig out of the box.
24/7 performance. It is not entirely clear what “performance” a bed of absorbent granules is expected to put on, but clearly no one wants a litter that only performs twenty-three hours a day, then takes a break to go hang out in the green room with the backup singers.
Dust-free. Because who wants to scoop up dusty cat poop?
Cat fanatics are not put off by all these choices. Rather, they love to have such options to consider, so they can convince themselves they are doing a conscientious and thorough job of overly caring for their cats.
VI. Boxes or Biodomes?
As fast as cat litter technology has been evolving, litter box technology has been evolving even faster. Catakists regard kitties as such ascended beings that they are driven to convince both themselves and their cats that modern felines no longer have an actual biological need to poop. And so they buy increasingly elaborate and sterile-looking structures meant to disguise the process from human eyes (and noses). Today it is virtually impossible to tell a cat’s litter box from a time travel machine, except for the fact that most people who own a time travel machine don’t put it on the floor and let their cats crap in it.
There are litter box models that resemble salon hair dryers, copying machines, human toilets, and giant hamster wheels and cost up to $500. All have a futuristic design intended to be as far removed from crapping-on-the-forest-floor as possible. Have any of these new technologies succeeded in changing the basic way that poop comes out of a cat? Alas, no, poop still emerges from cats the old-fashioned way. But there are a myriad of technologies for dealing with the poop once it has landed so that humans can pretend cat poop doesn’t exist and the cat can remain a perfectly spiritual being in the human’s mind.
The most exciting of these technologies are the self-cleaning models. There are litter boxes that rake the litter and deposit the “results” into a bag for easy disposal. There are rotating-wheel designs that sift out the poop like mining equipment seeking gold. There are models with live plumbing that rinse the reusable plastic litter pellets with water and flush the waste away like a human toilet.
And there are also rumored to be some new designs in the works, patents pending:
The Crapatorium—Kitty poops on a conveyor belt, then the results are “cremated” in a tiny oven at 2300 degrees Fahrenheit. Ashes may be placed in decorative vials.
Pneumat-o-cat—Tinkerbell’s turds are sucked up into a pneumatic suction tube, like the ones banks once use at drive-throughs, and are deposited in the neighbor’s yard.
The Crap-a-pult—Low-tech, low-cost version of the above. It just flings the poop into the neighbor’s pool.
The Tom-poster—Packages kitty’s waste in tiny sterile bags labeled “Fertilizer.” Congratulations, your cat doesn’t poop, she gardens.
Schrodinger’s Catbox—By flipping a quantum switch, you create an alternate universe in which the cat never pooped in the first place.
All litter box technology is designed for one end (no, not that one), and one end only: to make it easier for the common cat obssesser to pay homage to their kitties by denying that cats have the same appalling digestive processes we do.
VII. The Posterior Power Play
There is an even deeper psychological principle at work in humans’ takeover of cats’ excretory processes. That is, humans have voluntarily assumed a lower position on life’s totem pole than cats. As Jerry Seinfeld once put it, “You see two life forms. One is making a poop, the other is carrying it for him. Who would you think is in charge?”
The powerful do not clean the toilets of the weak.
It is rumored that former president LBJ used to conduct informal cabinet meetings while perched on the toilet. By doing so, he placed himself in a higher power position than those around him. In effect, he was saying, “You have to deal with my pooping; I don’t have to deal with yours.”
This principle is known as the Posterior Power Play.
By delegating their poop management to humans, cats have pulled off the ultimate coup and cemented their superior position to humans.
And Catakists happily play along.
VIII. Litter Cakes: The Ultimate Symbol of Submission
If you have any doubts that humans take actual pleasure in humbling themselves to cats, google the term “kitty litter cake.” The results may shock and appall you, or, if you’re a diehard feline admirer, produce squeals of delight.
Yes, there is a popular confection, baked up in countless human homes, known at the litter cake. This is an edible dessert made from cake, crumbled cookies, and partially melted Tootsie Rolls and designed to look exactly like, yup, a used litter box. The confection is presented in a (hopefully new) plastic litter box and served with a (also preferably new) litter box sifting tool.
You might think this dessert was a one-time gag, dreamed up by someone with a twisted sense of humor and far too much time on his hands. But sadly, a Google search produces hundreds of photos of varying litter cake designs, as well as numerous competing recipes and discussion threads as to which recipe produces the best litter cake. Litter cake is a bona fide thing.
It doesn’t take a Freudian analyst to grasp the psychological significance of this. By dining on the litter cake, we are symbolically eating, well, do we have to say it?
The point is: the kitty litter cake is the ultimate proof of the position humans have put themselves in relative to cats. In the Man vs. Cat power game, Cat has won and owns it.
Ninefold Path Guidepost #9
When a cat emerges from a litter box, pretend you weren’t looking.
Here is one area where cats and their people agree: cats don’t poop. Got it? Good.
IX. The Other Litter: Kittens
Humans were so successful at taking over the excretory processes of cats that they have now taken over Cat’s reproductive cycle as well. Humans have become kitty midwives. Not because cats need us to be, but because, again, we need to be needed by cats.
The birth of kittens is an event of high religious significance in a Catakistic household. Therefore, it must be carefully overseen.
Only a few short decades ago, when a cat was ready to have kittens, she would seek out a private corner in the garage or barn, make herself a comfy nest, give birth to her litter, and nurse her kittens until they were ready to survive on their own. Period.
Humans now feel they must supervise every aspect of Cat’s reproductive cycle, from which cat dude they get frisky with to when to buy booties for the kittens. They now do everything short of attending Lamaze classes with their cats. Judging by a human’s behavior around kitty birth, an alien observer might conclude their motivation was: How can I interfere in this natural process so as to create maximum anxiety for myself, the cat, and the kittens?
X. Cat Birthing Steps for the Responsible Cat Owner
Veterinarians and cat experts now offer cat birth advice that goes miles beyond Dr. Benjamin Spock’s famous book for humans. Some of the steps that actual cat care books and websites suggest are listed in bold; the Catakist’s translation follows:
1. Regularly monitor your cat for signs of pregnancy. Pin her down every forty-five minutes or so and give her an impromptu gynecological exam. That will surely drive her out the door, at which point she will likely return home pregnant. Yay, result attained. Salmon, pickles, and Häagen-Dazs for everyone!
2. If she appears pregnant, take her to a licensed veterinarian for a complete checkup. The vet will advise you as to the safety of the pregnancy, the estimated number of kittens to expect, and any pregnancy support groups in your area that you can attend.
3. Keep track of the pregnancy’s duration. A cat going past sixty-seven days should receive an ultrasound and a possible caesarean section. (A cat going over eighty days is a cat hanging onto her pregnancy for dear life because she’s terrified of the “help” you’re going to offer at birth time.)
4. Change her diet in the third trimester. At forty-two days into the pregnancy, switch mom to kitten food. Of course the only way you will know she is forty-two days in is if you had a ringside seat to the conception. In which case, shame on you.
5. Set up a nest. Get a cardboard box with high sides, fill it with soft material, place it in a safe, warm place where mom will have easy access to food and a litter box … and then watch her proceed to ignore it and make a nest in your sock drawer instead.
6. Prepare your cat for kittens. Trim the hair around the birth area so the kittens have easy egress. Trim the hair around the nipples so the kittens have easy access.
7. Prepare for the birth. Have a cat carrier ready in case of an emergency trip to the vet. Keep your cell phone charged and your vet’s number cued up. Have clean, dry towels ready for cleaning kittens. Have cat milk powder and a nursing bottle available in case the kittens don’t nurse. Ask your doctor for a Valium prescription.
8. Watch for signs of medical issues. These can include a greenish-yellow, bright green, or reddish discharge; vomiting; diarrhea; sneezing; coughing; and loss of appetite—and that’s just for you. The cat may have symptoms too.
9. Clean and sterilize your hands for at least five minutes with antimicrobial hand soap. After all, it is crucial to be absolutely sterile when assisting in a process that, until a few years ago, often took place in barns.
10. Watch for labor complications, such as listlessness, excessive grooming, restlessness, pacing, excessive purring, vomiting, a drop in body temperature below 102 degrees Fahrenheit, or loud crying. If you see any of these, increase your anxiety level. There’s nothing else you can do.
11. Keep the environment calm. Which means, essentially, that YOU should leave the room. If you can’t do that, at least stop repeating, “I hope I don’t f*** up, I hope I don’t f*** up,” like a mantra.
And then things really kick into high gear …
12. Monitor each delivery. Take some deep breaths.
13. Watch for contractions, which should be 2–3 minutes apart. Come on, breathe. You can do this.
14. Make sure mother breaks the amniotic sac. Have that phone handy to call 911. Where the &%$# is it?
15. Wipe the kitten’s face with a clean, warm towel. More towels, more hot water!
16. Check that there is one placenta per kitten. Stay calm, you can count. Yes, you can.
17. Do not cut the umbilical cord. Put the scissors down!
18. Check kittens for choking/gurgling sounds. Breathe, breathe, breathe. Almost there!
19. Make sure each kitten nurses.
The above list is actually a greatly edited and simplified version of the real instructions offered to cat owners participating in a birth event.
So you can follow all of the above steps, or you can try Method B:
1. Do absolutely nothing.*
Both methods will produce exactly the same results: a healthy litter of kittens. Actually, that is not true. Method B will statistically lead to a healthier mother and litter of kittens because it will not entail you nervously dropping the kittens; you stepping on mom’s nest in your frantic haste to find her a safe place to nest; or you pulling, scrubbing, pinching, snipping, or cauterizing things that should not be pulled, scrubbed, pinched, snipped, or cauterized.
But still, a dedicated Catakist cannot be persuaded to take a hands-off approach to something as mind-bendingly miraculous as the arrival of a litter of kittens. She is psychologically compelled to take a management position, so as to make herself indispensible to her cat (at least in her own mind).
*not actually possible for a Catakist.
XI. The Blessed Day
When thinking about the high points of our lives, most of us remember our first kiss, our college graduation, American Idol’s inaugural season, or even our wedding day. All of those things are nice, but for a Catakist, the day that remains etched in memory, even when she can no longer remember her own name, is the day(s) her cat had kittens.
Kitten Birth Day is an event ideally accompanied by champagne, cakes, gifts, live music, confetti, and, if the budget allows, parades with marching bands. It is the culmination of a long process that includes painting and decorating the kitten nursery, buying kitten clothes and toys, designing and printing the birth announcements, and purchasing the extra batteries and memory cards for the camera.
The biggest shock the Catakist faces at birth time is realizing that her job does not allow a paid leave of absence for kitten care (note to self: when the rush is over, start a petition for paid cat maternity leave). This creates an enormous problem, because for the next six weeks, the Catakist puts her entire life on hold. She does not work, she does not cook, she does not clean, she does not shower or feed herself. No. She helps with the kittens morning, noon, and night.
Much to the dismay of the mother cat.
XII. Angels Descend to Earth
In Catakism, the arrival of the kittens is nothing short of an angelic visitation. Normal life ceases, and a period of intense religious service begins.
The first thing the human does when kittens are born is announce to the human family: “We must not name the kittens, because that will only make it harder to part with them when it’s time to find them new homes.”
The second thing the human does is name the kittens.
The third thing the human does is fall madly in love with each and every one of the furry cuties.
The fourth thing the human does is announce that virtually no human home on Earth will be good enough to merit receiving one of the sacred kittens.
With permanent residence of all the kittens thus firmly established, the human’s anxiety level goes down and she can go about the business of turning her life over to kitten servitude.
Kitten-proofing the home. When kittens arrive, the first practical step the human family must take is to kitten-proof the home. That means removing everything a kitten can:
swallow
knock over
chew on
break
fall into
pee on
spill
hide in
turn on
play with
climb
In short, that means removing everything from the house except the litter box and food and water dishes. This is not a problem for devoted Catakists, who no longer want to do anything but play with the kittens, video the kittens, cuddle the kittens, and turn the entire home into a kitten playpen.
Fretting over feeding and care. During the first several weeks of life, the kittens get all of their nourishment from their mom. It is the mother cat’s job to feed and care for the kittens. It is the human’s job to hover over mom 24/7 and fret about it. This eventually stresses the mom cat out so much that her milk dries up and she starts ignoring her kittens and staring into space with slightly folded ears. At this point, the human deems it necessary to take over the care and feeding of the kittens, which is what she was secretly angling for all along.
Weaning the kittens. When it’s time for the kittens to transition to solid food, the human begins to have more frets than a double-neck electric guitar. For it becomes the human’s job, not the mother cat’s, to oversee the weaning process. At this point, the human no longer sleeps at night, due to absolute certainty that the kittens are going to die of starvation before dawn.
The human starts the weaning process by making a soggy mash of dairy product and dry cat food. If the kittens eat this, the human enters a state of profound euphoria. If the kittens do not eat, she calls 911 ten times a day.
Eventually, of course, the kittens transition to “regular” food, because that’s what kittens do, and the human is so proud of her animal husbandry skills, she awards herself the Albert Schweitzer Gold Medal for Humanitarianism and quits her job to become a frontier veterinarian.
Finding new homes. Eventually—unless she is a certified crazy cat lady—the human will realize that she cannot, in fact, keep all the kittens. Not if she wishes to keep her job, her mind, her security deposit, and, oh yeah, her spouse (if one is deemed necessary). At this point, the screening and interview process for adoptive parents begins.
Writing the questionnaire. The first step in this process is to create a set of questions to ask all potential adopters. These range from the basics, such as religion (i.e., Catakism), income level, and political beliefs, to more complex concerns, such as foreign entanglements, recent visits to regions where certain fungal infections are common, and diversification of stock portfolio.
Placing the ad. In bygone eras, when one wanted to place kittens, one wrote “Free Kittens” on the back of a beer carton and nailed it to one’s garage. Today, putting kittens up for adoption involves a long-range social media campaign. It begins by chumming the waters with strategically placed online photos of the kittens in pom-pom hats. Later it evolves into a sophisticated marketing strategy that creates a sense of exclusivity.
Interviewing the applicants. Assuming all of the candidates have been given a thorough background check, filled out their questionnaires, and had their names googled for any potentially anti-feline remarks made in the past, it’s time to move ahead with the interview process.
There is no set formula for the adoption interview, except that it should be grueling, long, offensive, and intrusive, so as to drive away any but the most dedicated and committed humans. The most important part of the interview, of course, is the meeting of the kittens. If one of the kittens chooses the human by purring, kneading, rubbing against, or giving the soft eyes, the deal is sealed.
The kitten always has the last word, and its word is sacred.
Bow to the Meow.
