Dear Litter Box,
You look so pretty once assembled. Your faux-wood grain sides make a delightfully elegant statement while you sit under my bathroom’s open cabinet. When you were delivered to me, along with your Lords and Masters the cats, I was delighted; after all, you had a top which is traditionally great for reducing the amount of litter all over the floor, a bonus because you’re set up in a room where we often travel bare foot. The vented top ads an element of comfort for the kittehs; after all, cat pee is known to be awfully… well, smelly. The ammonia levels in cat urine are out there. Thank goodness they have a habit of burying it!
Anyway, dear cat litter, I loved having you, until it came time to clean you.
That’s when I discovered the fundamental flaw in your design. You see, it is now obvious that a litter box which has to be assembled, can also be disassembled. What I’m wondering is why does it have to happen when I’m just trying to clean you out? I’m working for you here, after all! I try to pick up your lid so that the bottom ring comes out smoothly, attached to the lovely faux wood sides (did I tell you yet how beautiful that makes you?) but instead of remaining in one piece, oh no, you fall apart! The ring sits around your bottom tray, and I am left with lovely but now floppy sides, no longer properly attached to the base ring. Worse, I sometimes discover litter has crawled, somehow, into the channels meant to receive the edge of your sides. Insert hole B in matching slot… just as soon as you clean out the ring, in addition to cleaning out the poop and clumped pee from the base.
Sometimes, you come apart top and bottom. This is unacceptable behavior. If I had bought you, I would want a refund. As it is, understand this: just as soon as I can, I’ll be replacing you. I’m sorry, you’re lovelier to behold than most covered litter boxes, but you are simply not practical. Your antics caused me to miss my daughter’s walk to the bus stop this morning, and I am not happy about that. Additionally, all the extra work you cause me when you decide to not cooperate is simply intolerable.
If you want a chance at redemption, dear little box, please do not fail me again.