Ok, sort of on-topic. As a cat-owning studio owner, has anybody lost bizness - or ruined someone's session at least - due to cat allergies?
I always tell clients beforehand that there is a cat around, and I also have a perennial stash of Claritin at the ready. I'd rather lose the client than the cat though. (Unless it was, I don't know, Tom Waits or something.)
We have 2 cats in our rehearsal space...they bolt as soon as we start playing, but their cat boxes remind us they're there.
This one like to bug me while mixing.
BTW, she's almost 19 years old!
Clumping litter and a once-a-day cleaning and you should be able to more or less forget the cat box most of the time.
When I moved into a tiny beachside apartment there was NOWHERE else to put the cat box but in a tiny utility closet in the tiny kitchen... (did I mention this place is tiny? But it is literally a 2 minute walk to the bay and you can see Catalina at the end of my street on a clear day.) I didn't wanna but there was no other way. It really hasn't been a problem, except maybe for a little sand spill... and I got a little rubber bib mat that goes in front of it (and the closet door closes enough to 'direct' the cat across the mat) that catches most of the sand.
But before I discovered clumping litter (long time ago when I had four cats) my place had a reputation among my friends... if you know what I mean.
But my surviving cat (a rescue I took in at my old place after I had to have pretty much all his teeth pulled) is a real sandbox engineer. When his old and sickly pal George was still around, this guy, Duke, would actually seem to go into the covered cat box just to cover up George's scats. (Another good invention, the covered cat box -- at least if you can persuade your cat to use it -- Duke was just so happy to be inside and not eating out of trashcans that I think he liked it 'cause it made him feel protected at a sensitive juncture.)
Duke (so named because, though it doesn't show here, he has one blue eye and one green eye and was very thin and white [well, actually not all that white... he was sick and filthy and very weak] when I started feeding him in my backyard -- I knew from the first bowl of catfood that he was gonna end up with me, of course, so I didn't even bother waiting to 'name' him)
George and Dave, his fondly remembered 'cousins' who were born in a cardboard computer monitor box in my living room in 1989. AKA, the Dubba Trubba Bubba Hub Boys. They look mean but they were... well, pussycats. It was a tough neighborhood, though, lots of pitbulls and kids, so they adopted that hardguy look...