We've officially hit the doldrums of winter; you can tell because we've arrived at the Super Bowl. It's the halfway point of the cold weather, at least if the little rodent from Punxy has any say in the matter. And while winter is often accompanied by folks complaining about the snow, the wind and the dreariness of it all, my current frustration exists due to something else.

We have two cats.

Both of these cats enjoy eating an immense amount of food and drinking more water than fish do. Generally speaking, when temperatures creep above 40 degrees and the sun shines, they are pretty good cats. But when we are in the middle of winter, they elect to stay inside and use their own private "facility," as we call it here. It's a fancy name for the litter box.

This is one of the hidden, often unknown, pains of winter in Pennsylvania, and it affects anyone who owns a cat. Saying the situation "stinks" is like saying the Arizona Cardinals might struggle against the Pittsburgh Steelers in the big game.

Somehow I ended up being the one relegated to maintaining the "facility" so our cats can do their business each day.

What makes the situation unbearable, however, is that I didn't even want the darn cats. And before any of you feline-loving-readers decide to fire off an e-mail protesting my aversion to kittens, please consider that my wife is allergic to cat dander. So while my own personal desire to not own a cat is selfish, it's not completely without reason. Having two of the little fleabags defies any logic whatsoever!

Ironically enough, I inherited this "dooty" (pardon the pun) about eight years ago this month when my wife announced that she was pregnant with our first child. Apparently there is some conspiracy between soon-to-be moms and their OB/GYNs to ensure that no female ever has to change the litter while carrying a child. It's because of some parasite thing I guess. Unfortunately, the dads didn't get a similar directive, and as a result, we're the ones left scooping and mixing.

Somehow, the cleaning duty stays with the male after the child is born — at least until the child turns 18 years old and moves to an apartment, where the dad secretly sticks both cats into a moving box marked "NOT FRAGILE."

It isn't pretty.

But the cats and I have developed a certain amount of respect for each other as a result of needing each other.

Obviously, I need them to stop going so often. This goal is met through limited feeding and watering while actually pushing them outside on any day with a temperature nearing double digits.

The cats need me, for lack of better words, to flush their toilet.

By doing so, I make the basement something that is actually inhabitable by something other than four-legged creatures.

The question that remains, however, is how can two animals weighing a combined 20 pounds do so much damage in one day? My children couldn't fill the litter box as quickly or completely as the cats do.

I recently read that kitty litter can also be used to help with traction on sidewalks.

I'm guessing that was discovered by some angry husband performing his bi-weekly duties. Go figure. And GO STEELERS!

Christian Ola, a community columnist for the Butler Eagle, resides in Mars with his wife, son and daughter and can be reached at christianolac@aol.com and through his Web site, www.christianola.com.