I, myself, subscribe to the “Too long!” camp.
My dog, who just turned four is seven pounds. I live on the top floor (4) of my condo building, and there is no elevator. When my ex-wife and I got the dog we bought a PetLoo. Nowadays there are many copycat products, but the original was developed by an Aussie woman.
I have a large back deck that opens from the kitchen. Quickly we trained the dog to go out and do her ones and twosies on the PetLoo. There are little holes in the astroturf that allows urine to flow through and into a cup. For plops, you just have to grab them off the top.
It’s recommended each day to run hot water over the fake-grass as this will keep the urine from binding to the astroturf. But seriously, who is going to do that? Not this guy. I don’t even pick up her poop if we go for a walk. I mean, I probably have picked up poop about twelve times total. In four years.
Once a year I have to buy a new thing of grass. It’s like $60 and it’s a must. The stench is so bad you can smell it from six feet away on any day should the wind pick up.
In between new grass purchases, I remember to clean it a few times. Tonight was one of those times.
What I do is clear everything out of the dishwasher and load up the PetLoo, face-down on the top rack. I put a large amount of soap and flip it on. Within five minutes the jets are doing the heavy lifting.
When I first bought this I asked the company if the dishwasher was a good idea. They told me it would ruin the fake grass. This turned out not to be true. What was true, and what they didn’t tell me was that the kitchen would smell like a public beach bathroom. If you’re into piss, you’ll love it.
At the end of the forty-five minute cycle it’s like the National Asparagus Growers Council is partying in my kitchen. But imagine they’re hanging out in a sauna at the time. Hot dog peeps is what comes and punches you in the face when you open the dishwasher door.
I then run it through again. Once done, I pull it out (still reeks of the yella) and put it back on the Pet Loo. I then run a third full cycle totally empty with a lot of soap. After that, the dishwasher is ready for primetime. The smell is gone and in goes the silverware and plates.
So, to recap – I wash the dog bathroom in the dishwasher two consecutive cycles. Then I run it a third time empty. Maybe that’s a water waster. I don’t know. I don’t seem to care.
The photo below was just taken. I had to fold one half of it up so you could see. It covers the whole entire top area.
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My cat, Pantaloons, is a really awesome pet. The day I brought her home from the shelter she didn’t show the slightest bit of fear approaching the dog. She’s never once hissed, and her favorite thing to do is sit on your chest and lick your nose.
Every night the dog goes over and the cat spends three minutes licking her fur.
In the morning (I live in a fourth–floor walkup), I let the dog out on the balcony to use her Pet Loo. It’s an astroturf bathroom thing. The cat runs out with the dog, waits for her to finish, and then follows her back in the house.
Pretty damned cute, no?
But for some reason she sometimes pees all over the place.
And while I am not above a little shower or sink urination myself, I do restrict myself to places with drains.
A few weeks ago I was hanging out in the bathroom, jamming in front of the mirror, practicing my rock moves (God, I wish that weren’t true – but it is).
My cat walked into the shower, turned toward me, squatted, and peed all while staring right at me.
It’s like that anti-pot commercial from the 80s. “I learned it from watching you, Dad! I learned it from watching you!”
But peeing in the shower is more funny than anything. I just turned on the nozzle and away it went. We both had a good laugh. (Yes, I choose to believe that when I laugh, my cat also laughs on the inside).
However, Pantaloons also has a terrible habit of urinating on any item of clothing I leave on the ground, on the right side of my bed.
And if she only peed directly onto my Sean Jean sweatpants (just kidding, I don’t wear Sean Jean. Nor sweatpants), this would be just fine. I would simply take the soiled clothes, throw directly into the wash, and have it wash right out. That is from my upcoming newspaper advice column, “Hints From Deloise.” Bad joke, I know.
But sometimes she misses. She pees half on my AC/DC boxers (yes, I have these), and then half on the rug that surrounds my bed.
And since this is done during the night, I don’t realize she’s peed until the morning. No problem with the boxers, they will rock again. But the rug – I mean you can’t see the stain. But you can smell it.
I know the thing to do is throw away the rug, but it’s one of those massive big rugs and it was super-expensive. Also, I sort of think that over time the smell will just go away. So far, it hasn’t. But I’m going to wait it out.
In order to prevent future cat peeing, I have found a solution! My vet has prescribed Prozac for my cat. This is interesting, because out of the three of us in the house, two of us are on meds. The dog’s the only sane one, apparently.
Amazingly, Prozac stops cats from peeing outside the little box. Better purring through chemistry! (I know that was a super lame reference, but I think it’s funny. So there.)
As for the smell, well, considering the other smells coming out of my bedroom, it’s just one more.
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