Yesterday evening ended the period in the life of Scraps the Cat during which she was radioactive. She's feeling kind of a let down -- like 'what am I if I no longer glow in the dark -- postpartum blues type of thing. She's still pretty special in my book.
And besides, I've still got the box of diminishing in radioactivity cat crap to deal with. Come to find out medical waste companies don't want it because it's not their type of radioactivity. The hazardous waste people don't want it either because, well, it's just not that hazardous. And for sure the land fill people don't want it. At least not for awhile. The hazardous waste people suggest just boxing it up and waiting a month because the half life of this particular radioactive stuff is 8 days. In a month, they said, it will just be regular household garbage. Yet another blow the the fragile ego of Scraps the Cat.
So that's the plan. Just wait a month.
Sounds a whole lot better than getting tracked down by the landfill people and fined heavily for dumping cat crap before its time. For a month, then, we'll just have a box labled 'Danger - Do Not Open' taped up and put off in a corner of the garage.
Scraps is hoping this whole thing will inspire a movie. Or at the very least a second helping of treats.
You never know. I'm sure she'll get at least one of her wishes. Life is like that, sometimes.