On month after we were married, I brought home a black pound cat we named Dezi. She was with us the first 16 years of our marriage.
About 9 months after adopting Dezi, we adopted Samson, a 9-week-old orange tabby.
At the tender age of 9 weeks, Sam had a tendency to poop, lose his balance, sit in his own poop, and then run around the apartment.
On one such occasion, I grabbed the little shi**er and rushed to the kitchen sink to clean him off before he could sit on anything.
He howled like bloody murder as I held him under the faucet, washing feces off his hind parts. The wife burst into tears exclaiming that I was "hurting him" and Dezi, our first cat, actually bit my leg.
I (gently but effectively) kicked Dezi off me and glared at the wife and ordered her out of the room.
Neither Sam nor Dezi was harmed in the process - I cannot same the same for myself or my marriage . . . .
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