It had been over a week since the cat was last seen, and it was time for Ben and Christina to deduce the obvious: coyotes got her. They hadn't had her for more than a few months, and were barely even committed to the name they'd given her ("Cliche") but now they were confronted with the decision on whether or not to replace her.

Christina was cleaning the litter box when she decided, No, and Ben nodded in agreement. The house was clean now, cleaner than it had ever been (at least, since the kids moved out) and neither of them could handle the responsibility of the litter box. The litter, pawed into the air and collecting in an uncleanable corner, where, set in stone -if it was possible- was the smell, unmistakeable, and unmoveable. The litter box sat in a cabinet in the guest bathroom. The door had been removed, so that the cat could wade in and out, and it seemed to suit everyone fine. Until now, where they found themselves with a completely defiled cabinet, one that must be destroyed, if not burned altogether to remove the smell. It's too bad, they thought, since the sinks were so nice. Maybe they could save the fixtures.

Then there was the matter of the poop itself, having to handle it, and move it off. Few things in life were less fun, than cleaning the litter box. So, No. No more cats. Their house would be clean again.

They had several perfectly labeled trash cans, as well as a compost bin. This was in addition to the "Yard Waste" and "Recyclables" containers they'd already had, as they separated their recyclables on their own and took them down the transfer station -the city couldn't be trusted with the pick-up. "How do they even separate them? How does a machine even know what is paper and what is plastic? I mean, seriously."

Christina just shrugged. Thought of the cat.

Their regular waste bin was never full, they recycled so much. Additionally, they had a compost bin in their back yard, where they composted old food, grass clippings, raked leaves. They saved the runoff water from the downspout on their roof. Several large barrels lined up on the side of the house collected water for the garden. Ben took great pleasure in shredding junk mail and old, useless phone books and composting those, too, when he could. And every Wednesday morning the two of them took to the neighborhood with their grabbing tools and plastic bags.

"I knew we should have kept her as an indoor cat," complained Christina. Ben just shook his head, thinking of the guest bath, as he picked up a plastic water bottle and put it in a separate bag, to recycle later.

"I heard a pack of coyotes just last night. I was up at 3AM to get a glass of water, and you could hear them yipping and howling out across the field. It was erie. I wonder why they do that. But it sounded like there were fifty of them," said Ben.