My twelve-year-old cat shoved the Home section of the newspaper toward me with a paw still wet with milk from my cereal bowl. (Too bad I only made that connection AFTER finishing the bowl. Yuk.)
She mewed noisily and batted at a headline in the top right-hand corner: “Picky Cats, Litter and Scents-ability,” it said.
“What’s this?” I asked while she rolled her eyes dramatically and tapped a paw on her temple.
“Hey, don’t get an attitude,” I said. “I’m not the one that coughed up a hair ball and then got scared and tried to kill it.”
The story was about a new development in kitty litter technology that combines “aromatherapy” with antibacterial kitty litter full of dried botanicals and essential oils. The litter comes in scents such as lavender, geranium, and orange spice, and promises to “deliver a sense of inner growth and relaxation” as the cat uses the box.
Why should we stop there? Why not tiny kitty-sized magazine racks for the bathroom with reading material like Good Mousekeeping or Martha Stewart Living—For Cats (“Spray-paint leftover lizard innards for a festive patio wind chime!”).
I’m not even sure what aromatherapy is for humans, let alone cats. I think it’s what we used to call candles. These days there are entire stores devoted to aromatherapy, which is far removed from the box of kitchen matches we always kept in the bathroom in case it was Thanksgiving and Uncle Deewit was visiting. Y’all know what I mean. You probably got an Uncle Deewit in your own family.
The idea behind aromatherapy seems to be that certain combinations of scents can grant you the kind of deep spiritual connection and inner peace that could only be achieved in previous times by devouring an entire Sara Lee French Cheese-cake.
It all seems like a bunch of hooey to me, although the sense of smell can certainly take you places in your head every so often. The other day, I was talking to a woman in her fifties and suddenly I realized she was wearing patchouli. Woman, please. Nobody actually likes the smell of this old hippie scent from the ’sixties anymore. Get on with your life and get yourself some Estee. After all, it’s not like any of us still think Grand Funk Railroad was talented. Move on.
I think it’s nice to have a good-smelling house, but aromatherapy? Puleez. Even Glade and Wizard have started making “aromatherapy” candles that are supposed to “soothe and pamper.” Hey! I just want to cover up the smell of that shad roe I fried last night.
The cat listened to me mutter about all this and sulked back toward her plain old litter box with the cheap Wal-Mart litter and a Stick Up that hasn’t had any juice in it since 1988, but it’s not like you can ever get ’em off the wall. We just keep painting over ’em.
I bet she’ll pout until I open a can of mackerel for her supper. Remember, she thinks that stuff smells terrific so do you really think she deserves litter “enhanced with lemon thyme”?
I thought not.