I just adopted a new cat and brought him home Sunday. I set up his litter box and I have cleaned it twice since I got him and both times there was poo but no pee :( He eats, drinks, cuddles, purrs, plays with his toys and scratching post, follows me around, and sleeps with me. He seems like a happy healthy cat. I know cats with crystals can be lethargic and cats with kidney problems cat get depressed but my cat seems to be in a pretty good mood! I thought maybe he was peeing on the furniture but I have looked/felt/smelled EVERYWHERE and can´t find any! Is it normal for a cat to go three days without peeing? he is a 4-5 year old neutered male.

My boyfriend and I have a one year old cat, who is very persistent in tearing up our apartment carpet flooring and furniture. As the furniture is old, we're less concerned. The carpet, however, will cost us when the time comes to leave our apartment. Our cat claws at a very specific spot near the doorway to our room. We've tried several things: placing down a welcome mat (he manages to move it and get at the carpet regardless), covering the section of floor with aluminum foil (he was daunted at first, but it didn't take long for him to tear past that and look at it as a game), and we attempted the "citrus-smelly" stuff. And the good ol' water bottle has never really had an effect on him. Any suggestions for a cat this determined?

A couple of years ago I adopted a declawed cat. I am against declawing but I wouldn't leave behind the good cat because of what a prior owner has done. I didn't realize that declawed cats may have "issues" with using the litterbox, which is what I discovered a few months after having her. It wasn't consistent at first. But then it started to become more and more frequent for her to pee n poo outside of her box. (on the bed, floor, furniture, littermats, rugs) I researched about it when it became a problem. She was cleared by a vet. BUT I knew she was declawed. The litter might be uncomfortable on her declawed feet because it's really an amputation of a joint. This is how I solved the issue: shallow long underbed plastic storage crate (yaffa crate) arm n hammer clumping litter (very little only on one side) something she used to pee on like the cat litter mat (on side without litter inside crate) a small litter box uncovered on floor where she used to pee filled with torn newspaper (this can be moved little by little to where u prefer it, once the cat starts using it regularly) it worked for me. Hope it works for someone else because I hear cats get put to sleep for things like that. And that's just terrible.

Background Info: Very start of book, oppressive government, rebellion group. ------- "I don't know what you're gettin’ at with these freaks," Fisher whispered into the receiver, glancing at the door to ensure it was shut, "but what the hell do you expect me to do about it?" A muffled and frantic voice spilled from the other side of the phone and into the dark office. Fisher paced round his desk, his reddening face lit only by the faint blue glow from a computer screen. He pulled at his tie roughly and threw his cowboy hat at the wall. Those government snobs had no idea who they were talking to - he was Jeremiah Fisher for Christ’s sake, and that meant no damn bastard was gonna tell him what to do with his company! The limp dick rookie, Wringley or whatever, stuttered on over the line. ‘Assholes didn’t even have the decency to meet me in person,’ Fisher ground his teeth. Every time the kid began a new sentence or went off on some tangent that included the phrase ‘It’s for your own protection, sir’ Fisher felt the urge to go out and shoot something. He slammed a ringed fist into his desk. Pens, paper clips, and pictures of his latest lady, a blonde half his age, rattled on the surface. “Look here, nobody even knows what those people even look like.” He raged on, “But even with that, I guaran-goddamn-tee you they won’t be gettin’ anywhere near me or my bank!” He slammed the phone back onto it’s hook. Fisher snatched a small remote control off his desk and pressed a green button that said ‘open’. Black blinds began to rise on the far side of the room, revealing a wall spanning window that displayed the nighttime skyline of Freighton City. Lights lit up every corner in every hue, brightly dressed Altum danced their worries away, and best yet? No solum to be seen. Those filthy creatures were kept indoors once the clock hit 8:00 pm. In the very middle of the city, the thousand-pixel hologram of an olive branch shimmered from atop the capital building - meant to represent peace and prosperity. “Yeah, right,” Fisher scoffed. “Is that why ya’ll are always watching? For our damn peace?” He glared at it before snorting and turning away. A man stood before him. It took only a split second for Fisher to catch the bright red symbol on the sleeve of the man’s black jacket. Immediately he jumped away. “W-w-whoever sent you, I can p-pay you more,” He said with as much courage one could muster when facing down a member of both the most dangerous and wanted organization in the Empire. Nobody really knew who they were, or what they were. The only solid pieces of evidence that they ever left behind were mutilated bodies, destroyed buildings, and a broken olive branch painted in red. Fisher had been sure that the ghost group were just a concoction of the Empire, created to serve as bogeyman to keep people like him in line - but now . . . The invader did not move from where he was. He was a tall man, menacing, wearing a hood with a dark mirroring eyeshade that Fisher could see his own frightened reflection in. A chill breeze came from nowhere and Fisher shivered. “I’ll o-offer you anything you want, really I can gi-” The man smiled. The windows behind him burst. Freakish torrents of biting wind came rushing into the office. Papers flew and furniture moved in the flurry. Fisher fell to his knees and covered his head, the current pushed him closer and closer to the invader. When Fisher looked up the man was standing still amongst the tornado, long jacket flapping behind him, like a herald of chaos. “My apologies," the man said, his voice monotone. The wind became far stronger and drove him back. Fisher slid on glass until he could feel the back of his heels hanging over the edge of the broken window. He leapt forward like a terrified cat to grab hold of a rug that was planted firmly beneath his desk, but to his horror, missed. He hung suspended in mid-air. Half of his body inside of the office, and half of it hanging above the glowing city. The man held up a clenched, gloved fist in front of him, level with Fisher’s dangling body. “Mr. Fisher,” The man said, his voice barely heard over the rushing torrents, “Goodbye.” He released the fist.