I can forgive Kasha many things - he is usually a sweetheart, a very intelligent and usually well-behaved cat. He's hella sturdy - has survived being run over by a truck and gone on to become an oncological miracle, since the tumor on his paw hasn't managed to take him down yet in spite of size, ugliness, and veterinary predictions. But as the ammonia fumes begin to sting my nose in spite of repeated cleanings and treatments of Woolite Pet Stain remover - just as stinky, but less pungent - the slack I am willing to cut grows tauter and tauter.
The thing that pisses me off - metaphorically, jeez - it I more than half suspect this is part territory struggle, part medical problem. The paw with the tumor is probably irritated by the litter sand, making the carpet a much more attractive latrine. As for the dominance/territory bit - Mr. Kashka has decided he prefers Xiombarg's food to his own. I can share, and we have started putting a bowl of the kind I buy down with the kinds we were already feeding Kashka and Matari. What he does NOT get to do is finish that bowl, then come marauding upstairs and eat Xiombarg's as well. I have been unsuccessful in persuading him of this, and end up chasing him off once or twice a night. My computer table is located in a room he considers his - Xiombarg comes down to visit me rarely, and Matari doesn't usually come over either. So the extra added bonus to not having to get sand in his wounds is he gets to mark his territory. Oh, yay.
I'm kind of at a loss. I don't know how to go about retraining a seventeen year old, stubbornly oblivious to correction cat to use the litter box. But we're not exactly ready to say goodbye to him, either - it isn't incontinence, but deliberate choice (you can watch him sniff around to choose the best spot, even).