Dear Journal,

Despite rumors of my alleged cat obsession, I am as adept at cat behaviorism as Pat Robertson is to Christianity. This is why I am desperate for your advice.

When using a toilet facility, civilized individuals will take appropriate measures to ensure that their cohabitants are not smothered by the stench of their ass brownies, whether it be a courtesy flush or lighting a match.

We exercise these bowel manners not only out of respect for others but from fear of shame. It’s embarrassing to watch someone react to the smell of your asshole afterbirth with an eye-watering dry heave. It’s humiliating when your significant other teases you about bottling your ghost of turd mass past and marketing it as chemical warfare.  It’s humbling to know your feculent commode can strip paint from your bathroom walls.

However, from my experience with them, cats seem incapable of naturally comprehending this type of disgrace when depositing a chocolate butt biscuit into a litter box. So here’s the advice I need: How can I shit-shame my cats?

If I can teach these cats how to feel shit-shamed, Blind Murphy may try a little harder to cover his brown baby boys, and Reese may actually attempt to cover her mess and not dash out of the litter box likes she owes it back child support. I tried the point-and-laugh method of humiliation every time they popped a squat; however, it wasn’t long before I discovered that my uppity cats are indifferent to ridicule (as I’m sure yours are, too).

Even though cats are difficult to train, shit-shaming is my last resort. I’ve considered more aggressive solutions, but both options formed by my meager imagination would fail to work. For example:

I considered herbal anal douches. Blasting their posterior cavity every week with a diluted solution of 11 herbs and spices would be a lot of work for the owner of five cats. The lingering aroma of a fresh-baked pizza or gingerbread cookies after my cats’ bowl movements, however, outweighs the strenuous effort. Unfortunately, every store I visit refuses to sell them to me when I explain “they’re not for me; they’re for my cats.” Because of this, I also think I’m now on some sort of federal warning list.

My mewngineers suggested an enhancement to the leather harness I invented in November where an aerosol can of air freshener can be rigged onto the harness (if you don’t remember it, you can click here). When the cat hunkers for a crap, the can’s nozzle will depress and release a pleasant aroma of clean linen or spring breezes to overpower the stench. Unfortunately, this can be dangerous as I never know when Zoe will be nearby with a lit Virginia Slim Ultra Light 100 dangling from her mouth.

So to my readers with more cat experience, is there a way I can train my cats to feel shit-shame? Is this a situation suitable for airing on Animal Planet’s My Cat from Hell? I really need your help.