Monkey bumping

It is time to discuss the whole monkey bumping thing.
Sure, you can look it up on the Internets – the Urban Dictionary defines it as two women having sex (use your imagination) – but those in the know, those who have witnessed the truth (or have, at the very least, heard the truth first-hand) know of the monkey bumping.
It is, of course, the attempt to clean one’s anus by thumping it across a surface other than two-ply.
Scooting your bum across a granite outcropping in a high-mountain lake counts (this is where I first was made to confront the term; a witness to a backcounty ritual of a deranged backpacking friend. The experience seared an image into my retinas – and left a big mental welt.)
Watching your pet scoot his or her backside across the linoleum, carpet or hardwood floor counts as well.
If you wish to avoid the monkey bump, remember (and follow) these two rules:
1. Do not go backpacking with any of my friends;
2. Do not enter into a long-term relationship with a Manx cat.
I am fucked, on both counts.
Buddies who can put up with all your weird shit in the backcountry are hard to come by. Conversely, you let the monkey bumping go.
The cat, Neo, is part of a package deal; and I really love the other cat.
(I will fess up right here and now, I broke Neo’s hip three years ago – and he has held this against me ever since. Oh, he’s recovered – the vet said he might have arthritis in his old age, and I said, “Won’t we all?” – but any guilt I may or may not have felt does not excuse his monkey bumping tendencies.)
Manx cats have no tails.
And if you are to trust Cat Fancier magazine, monkey bumping is a trait of the breed.
(Just for argument sake, the Manx FAQ also says, “The Manx is a mellow, even-tempered cat, friendly and affectionate.” This does not, in any way, describe Neo, a surly lard-ass that, if made angry, will unroll an entire roll of toilet paper when you are not looking).
But I digress.
Here’s the question in question from the Cat Fancier FAQ:
Do they have bad habits?
“It isn't a bad habit so much as it is an unavoidable situation. Because rumpy Manx have no tails, sometimes ‘poop’ will cling to the close-lying hairs around the anus. This in turn may be smeared on the floor or whatever the cat climbs onto after visiting the litter box.”
And thus, the monkey bump.
Last week, I came in from a walk and thought I’d tracked mud across the kitchen. I made the mistake of swiping the mess up with my fingers.
The aroma of fresh cat shit assaulted my nostrils.
Soft food, according to Cat Fancier, will make the problem even worse.
I’m here to tell you that hard food ain’t a picnic.
Several times a week, Neo will leave the litter box with half a Toosie Roll sticking out of his ass.
You can expect to find these Neo nuggets wherever he can dislodge them (by monkey bumping, of course).
Mostly, they land on the kitchen floor (it’s best to turn on the lights when you walk around my place).
Twice in the last two weeks, however, I have found them in my bed (the last time, I hit the lights and jumped into bed; something lumpy lay under my back. A Neo nugget, thankfully desiccated. I changed the sheets – and showered.)
I must accept his monkey bumping. He’s part of the family, I suppose, the weird uncle figure who drinks too much Pabst Blue Ribbon and insists you pull on his finger until he rips one.
I just keep a keen eye out.
And the Clorox wipes handy.