He could've left a nasty note instead

This morning as I was taking Indy on his daily brisk dawn walk around the neighborhood, I was thinking that things have been going pretty well. It's challenging to keep up with two pets, to be sure, but nothing we can't handle. Hell yes, a dog and a cat. Things are nice.

Then I got home and headed upstairs to take a shower. And what should I spy with my little eye? A big heap of cat turds in the center of the neatly-made guest bed. Clearly Kitters is not so pleased about our decision to move Indy (in his crate) up to our room to sleep at night. Unfortunately, I couldn't exactly march the cat into the room, point at the poop, and demand that he explain himself. I figured at least cat poop is pretty easy to clean up, and decided to hope he felt that he'd made his point.

And then, as I leaned over and picked up the poop, I noticed a very, very suspicious smell. Perhaps, I hoped wildly, he'd dripped a little pee on the bed when he laid the present out for me. But as I stripped the comforter off, it became clear that this was no drip. Oh, no. Kitters had elected to go for broke. Seriously, if I had peed on the bed myself there might've been less wee. Clearly we had been given the feline equivalent of a big fat middle finger. Hopefully we can find something to take the smell out of the mattress. If not, I may have to get myself fitted for a brand new fluffy white hat.