OK, I didn’t literally eat cat puke, but by the end of this post . . . well, you’ll see.
(“NO WE WON’T” proclaim 10,000 grossed-out-already readers.)
Oh, yes. You will.
So it was on daylight savings night that we learned the lesson again: Cats cannot tell time. It was 5 AM (formerly known as 6 AM), and they wanted their damn breakfast. And like every other morning, I was ready to get up, but I didn’t want to reward their obnoxious behavior. Gus howls into the air. Pru knocks books off the shelves. Gus howls some more. Pru howls. Dave howls, “GET UP ALREADY!”
I tried something I’ve never tried before. I fed the cats and . . . WENT BACK TO BED!
What will happen? Surely having been fed they’ll now go off to do whatever satisfied cats do while humans try to sleep.
Oh. That activity just happens to be ensuring those humans STILL do not sleep.
Gus howls. Pru knocks books off the shelves. From having been up quite recently, I know the house is very cold. I don’t want to get out of bed again. Weirdly, I’m not even hungry. I think about the two donuts waiting for me in the cabinet. Not appealing. Strange. I’m planning to go to McDonald’s for coffee, tho, so maybe . . .
As soon as I think that thought, I swear, I smell hashbrowns. Specifically, McDonald’s delicious, greasy hashbrowns. Mmm. Maybe I’ll get . . .
But wait. That smell is real, not in my head. Oh, god, no. I peek over the edge of my bed.
Yes, in between bouts of howling, Gus has performed the rare Silent Puke. Right next to the head of the bed. It smells. Oh, NOW it smells like puke. A few seconds ago, however . . . well, I don’t want to think about that.
Flash-forward 2 hours. I can hear Dave stumbling around in the bedroom, so I leap into the room to warn him. My reward is a gratifying guy-scream of surprise.
“Don’t step in the cat puke!”
I explain the story as I’m cleaning up, even sharing the part about the hashbrowns.
“Gross!” he says, clearly not wanting to hear any more. But he will hear. He must.
Dave heads into the kitchen. “Are you sure Gus didn’t puke in here? I can smell it!”
“No, that’s, uh, you see, I DID go to McDonald’s.”
“And I got hash browns. Four, to be precise.”
Dave says no more, he merely heads to the basement in silent disgust. I brush my teeth for the thousandth time and reflect upon the merits of a mouth replacement.
* * *
Have YOU ever eaten cat-puke-by-proxy? Did you enjoy it? Please, someone tell me I’m not alone in this.
Hashbrown came from here