I'm not one to say that one's pets are one's children. Part of the family, sure, but I detest the term, "furbaby."
But what exactly would you compare your cat to in this situation?
Say you crawl into your freshly made bed with your husband to watch a movie and cuddle...
And say you fall asleep all cuddled up and intimate like...
And say at some point in the middle of the night you turn over, and you stretch out, so you don't have to breathe in your husband's exhale...
And you move into your favorite position to sleep in, slipping your feet under the soft warm blanket...
Only to find your toes in something wet, mushy and cold.
Which is wholly unexpected.
Because you do not remember leaving that there.
Did you dream that?
...So you wiggle your toes.
And it's still wet, mushy and cold.
So you sit up, touch your feet, and sniff your fingers in the dark.
That damned cat hurled under my blanket.
And why I love a cat with sneaky digestive upset is anyone's guess.
Won't be the last time I'll step in cat barf I'm sure. Just wish it had happened on the floor.
Monday, August 08, 2011
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