My dad was at the hospital with granny all last night, so I had to get up at the butt crack of dawn to go handle some shit at the office. After that, I came home since this bug has pretty much shut down my family and therefore work. I wrote some emails and started writing, trying not to fret over shit that I can’t do anything about. During a break, I went to the bathroom to take a piss.

A couple of weeks ago, I adopted a stray kitten that I found sitting outside of work one night when I was leaving. It was either take her home or let her die there. She’s a tuxedo cat named Nikita, only a few weeks old. Her litter box is in my bathroom, so every time I have to do my business, I take care of her business as well. This particular morning, I picked up the scooper only to discover that this kitten had stepped in her own shit and tracked it all over the bathroom floor.

Really, bitch? Really? All the money I put into finding the perfect shallow but long box to maximize your turning area? The fancy all natural expensive litter, the fucking diaper genie I bought to collect your personal poops? All this effort toward a clean and pleasant living experience, and of all the places to step, you aim for your own shit?

I almost thought it was intentional. Long gone are the days of co-dependent kitty, curling around my feet looking for a hug. Nikita has fully embraced her charmed life and has become a rambunctious teenager that pounces on anything that moves. As such, I keep her out of my room when I’m writing so that she doesn’t go after my hands. Maybe she knew what I was up to and decided to distract me. Fucking sneaky cats. This is why I never voluntarily had one before.

So I’m looking at the poo tracks, and my science background kicks into overdrive. I’m thinking, This whole damn bathroom is contaminated. I’ve probably got cat poo on the soles of my feet right now. So I bust out the cleaning supplies and clean everything like the whole damn bathroom needs a Silkwood shower, even shit that the cat can’t reach like the shower rail.

Meanwhile, this kitten is pouncing around my feet like we playin’. She thinks this shit is a game, and maybe she’ll do the same thing every morning to liven me up.

But I had a fix for her ass. After I cleaned up everything, I gave her a bath.

Afterward we sat on the couch. I held her in a towel while I did her flea treatment, and she cut her eyes at me resentfully. And then I laughed because there I was, taking prodigious care of a cat that I don’t even really want. There I was with a baby even though I don’t really want kids.

The Big G is always throwing things at me to take care of, I guess because I’m good at it, but also every boulder in the path is a reminder that life’s not over yet. Every time I have to reach deeper to deal with something, I’m reminded that life is trusting me with bigger things than it did before. Karma is trusting me with the lives of other people and other creatures.

It’s an honor. A thankless shit shoveling honor.