So let me begin by saying that I really like animals. Animals of all kinds, from dogs to snakes to gerbils.
You notice I didn't mention cats.
It isn't that I don't like cats. I do. Cats usually like me as well, and there are a few cats that I harbor fond memories of.
Except for my neighbor's cat.
In this neighborhood, when we bought it, the realtor touted that there are no roaming cats due to the population of coyotes that dwell in the wild park down below our house. People tend to not let their pet cats wander around the neighborhood for fear of their cats getting eaten. Which to me is a quite valid reason. And it made me happy not to have strays prowling around. I in no way miss those 2am earsplitting mating calls that happened at my parent's house on occasion.
But for whatever odd reason, my neighbor has seen fit to buck this trend, which she apparently finds too sissified for her taste. Hey, coyotes could eat her cat? Survival of the fittest is her motto! Darwin would be proud!
Of course, her cat likes to hang out on my patio as it is directly across from her house. And as we unfortunately found out one day, poop in my planter.
Which does not please Gina at all.
Ok, maybe I have asked for it in that I need to plant some things in my planter so that all that irresistible dirt does not draw the cat. But should I have to alter my gardening schedule just so a cat won't poop in the dirt that Mr. Personality loves to dig and play around with?
Gina doesn't think so.
So Gina has tried to make life hanging out on my patio a bit unpredictable for said cat. I would never harm the cat. Let's just say that at one point I let Mr. Personality throw open the door and (unbidden) scream, "Kiiiiiteeeeee!" at his most piercing. Or that the cat watched me as I got my garden hose, and proceeded to mist it half to death before it would leave. I did feel a littel guilty as I misted it, but I don't want it thinking my patio and planter are its personal playground slash bathroom.
Is that so wrong?