I know spending $650 on a self-cleaning litter box is ridiculous, especially when the low-tech competitors (aka plastic boxes) cost $20. I wasn’t the type of person to entertain the thought (the economy and all) until James the cat came into my life. Today I’m glad I made the jump to the Smarty Pear Leo’s Loo Too litter box.
Before James, it was just me and my calico BFF Cinnamon, and we were fine with traditional litter boxes. “Leave them to their spinning motors and smartphone apps,” I grumbled while picking up trash. Cleaning up after one cat is no big deal, but things change when a second or third feisty feline enters the mix. One day, in a loss of sanity, I opened my house to the second cat, James, the aforementioned black-and-white terror.
(By the way, if you’re wondering, “Who names a cat James?” I never did. It’s a long story, but the foster assured me that the second most famous cat psychic in the state met one – one-on-one with James and he tells her it’s his preferred name, or telekinetically meows at him or something.)
Now James is a growing child. He had literally doubled in size in just a few months, making poor Cinnamon even smaller. He eats like a racehorse and poops like one, too. I couldn’t keep up and I’m not ashamed to admit it. I would take out the three litter boxes at home (one for each cat plus, Jackson-Galaxy style) as if every few hours, only to find more “gifts” waiting for me a few minutes later. I couldn’t tell who was using which litter box (important because Cinnamon gets UTIs easily.) The house smelled; I am at my wits end.
That’s why I’m looking for so-called smart litter boxes. They all seem about the same feature-wise, but Loo Too attracted me because of its pleasing design and companion app. The latter informs me when a cat is using the litter box and differentiates each cat by weight. I knew exactly when Cinnamon was using it, that I didn’t bother to wonder if she was experiencing a UTI flare up.
As for the litter box itself, it is a reliable self-cleaning wonder. It is relatively quiet and the waste drawer takes a month to fill, after which it must be manually emptied. A whole month! I scooped several times a day before I got it. The setup is simple and it is fully built. Once I set it up and turned it on, it was only a few minutes before James (of course) did his dirty business. Cinnamon followed suit later that night.
Now this is their preferred litter box and the rest of my boxes are almost empty when I go to scoop. The Loo Too automatically separates litter from litter and waits a few minutes before turning on the motor, giving the cat time to get out of the environment. It not only cleans the waste, placing the waste in a removable bottom box, but it boasts a unique UV technology to clean itself. I’m not a scientist and so I can’t speak about the effectiveness of these UV rays, but I can say that this stuff doesn’t smell bad at all. The app allows you to set the cleaning schedule and make many other changes. It also comes with Alexa and other assistants, but asking a speaker to clean up poop seems beneath our AI overlords.
There are some downsides, of course. The power cord is cat-proof, but it’s also short — only two or three feet. Most people put litter boxes to avoid odors and messes. I put the Loo Too in my bedroom, but it’s far from any outlet, so I had to buy an extension cord and electrical tape to run the cord around the closet, along the wall and finally to a surge protector. There is also the cost aspect. This thing is $650, so it’s like the Apple Vision Pro of litter boxes. Although I like it, it’s a bit steep. It’s worth it to me, though, because it saves me a lot of time and I can get data about the bathroom habits of my precious mouse mutilators.
