One Cat, Two Cat, Crappy Cat, Yellow Cat ...Or Calico Cat?

If this morning is any indication of how my day will be, then my day will be exactly like stepping barefoot into a warm pile of cat shit.

Yup. One of my litter-trained felines decided to leave me a late Valentine's Day chocolate kiss. Except it "kissed" my just-pedicured-yesterday foot, and there was 0 amounts of actual candy in that mess.

But who? Who gifted me this experience?

It's a purrfect Caturday mystery!

Was it Khaleesie? The newcomer to the family? Who might more logically have more troubles remembering to use the litter box, as she has had only a short amount of time to grow accustomed to the fecal facts of the house?

Doesn't this little shit look sinister as heck??

This particular suspect was noticeably absent from late night cuddles, and then this morning, after the shit-stepping-incident-of-2014, she was all about snuggles. Apology love, perhaps?

And then there's this pisser.

He's pissed on my pillow. He's pissed in my purse. He's pissed in shoes, on fresh laundry, in shopping bags filled with new clothes. Just about the only place he hasn't pissed recently is the litter box.  Okay. So that's not quite fair. He hasn't had an *accident* in more than a year. But he's a notorious offender, so... logic forces me to question if he would move up the feline felon ladder to shitting. After all, he, too, was noticeably absent from morning cuddles, and he offered no apologetic affection once I was up.

Bah.

It's impossible to determine which is the offender. And I already have another mystery to solve: "Who Is Going To Clean This Mess," and I've already found one clue: A piece of paper on which I personally wrote, "It sure as shit ain't gonna be me."