Ok, help

First, let me say that I've taken some pains to avoid having this become a home renovation blog. I'd like to say that decision was made on general aesthetic grounds, but, if pressed, I'd have to admit that it's because you'd then all see how ridiculously long it's taking us to do the smallest things.

Second, I'm thinking I may have been too -- and you'll be shocked, I know -- mm, doctrinaire in arriving at my decision. I mean, one reason for not much content lately? All I'm doing, it feels like, is generating the verboten experiences of going to work and working on the house. But also, really, if this blog has any sort of a theme -- and god knows I've picked them up and set them down again like being turned lose at one ginormous scented candle display (my solitary stereotypically feminine behavior, and really not something you ever want to see) -- it's bloviation over a grain of sand. I mean, being able to see the universe in a grain of sand. Something like that. Essays on finding meaning in the humble. Whatev.

The problem...well, let's just say: If anyone can find the fable in the prosaic, c'est moi. And this house stuff? It's just frickin' prosaic. No fable; no moral. It's what's so damn dispiritingly gutting about it.

But, third: We're going back to the minutiae, regardless. Sue me; it's our roots.

Four, and really what my whole point was: does anyone know how to stop a cat from peeing?

I tried the feliway plug-in pheromone thingy. First day was promising: I came home to a scene out of an opium den, and druggy and blissed-out cats aren't pishers. It seems, however, to have stopped working, or they're getting acclimated, or something.

The problem is one particular neutered male cat. Back in the apartment, he was a completely docile -- even somewhat timid -- well-behaved, and emotionally needy little sack of love.

The trouble seems to have started when, after moving into the house, we started letting him into the enclosed yard. It utterly changed his personality. He raucously demands to go out at 5 am. He won't cuddle. He struts around the house. And, yes, he's really thinking been thinking outside the box.

I guess it may be a physical problem, and I'll try to get him into the vet. But the timing seems suspicious to me. I'm thinking:

- having very recently had the mind-blowing epiphany that it's ok to pee outside, he's having trouble refraining from overgeneralizing the new rules (he's not a very bright cat).

- having learned that there's this whole enormous world out there full of birds, he's absolutely furious with us for having kept this information from him for the past eight years.

- being anxious and not very bright, he's attempting to spray every last goddamn thing in the house to alert the birdies (etc) that THIS stuff is HIS.

Has anyone had experience with confused/spiteful/territorial cat peeing? What can one do? Do they make kitty diapers?

Twice this past week, I've been at work and thought "gee, something smells like cat piss," only to realize (after a few surreptitious sniffs) that it's me. This is the brand new they-don't-hate-me-yet office, folks. Something's got to be done, and fast.