I decided, recklessly, to clean out the upstairs litter box with Alex helping. The cats now use this one almost exclusively, and filled it to capacity over Jeff's vacation, so it needed a complete overhaul. Anyway, I dumped the festering contents of said litter box into a trash bag, as there was no litter left unsaturated. I also dumped a bit on the floor, because I can never get it all in the bag. Alex wanted to help, as she is as helpful as they come, and I instructed her on the things she could touch and the things not to touch.
Instructed perfectly as always, Alex chose her (my old) Bert doll as her grab-and-pat of choice. Better than a cat pee paper towel, so I was pleased. I further instructed her, "Don't put Bert in the litter box.". Seconds later I realized my folly, for in fact, what I said was not what she heard. With "Put Bert in the litter box." ringing in her ears, she waited until I whipped back around to watch and tossed Bert ceremoniously into the litter box. Not the middle where it was fairly clean, but in the end where there was the accumulation of two weeks worth of pee-ie cat litter. Not that it matters where, really. Bert was doomed to visit the washer anyway.
So, points to you, Alex, for putting something in something else. It was a heck of a time to "listen" to me, but I appreciate the idea. You're really learning to put stuff where I tell you to, and that's great. What's not so great? Besides the obvious, Bert has had his bath, and I'm sad to say that his unibrow paid the price. I found it at the bottom of the washer and now have to make the decision whether to draw a new one or glue the old one on. But he's fresh and clean (and sans pants, but I can fix that a bit more quickly) so he should be mostly ready to go by the time Her Heineyness has woken from her "map".
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