Heeeere kitty kitty kitty
I got nuthin' right now. Really. I went to lunch with my soon-to-be-a-Coloradoan friend (is that a word? It is now!), and I'm just totally bummed that we didn't do more lunches before now.
It was nice to find out, however, that my husband isn't the only husband who responds in very humorous ways to cat barf.
Apparently, both hubbies have been known to a.) chase the kitty around the house, holding a newspaper or paper towel or just about anything they can get their hands on under the cat's chin, encouraging the kitty to, "Come on! You can throw up right there! Right there! Not on the carpet!" and b.) sprint at warp speed just to get to aforementioned hacking kitty and launch it into the bathroom, where the barf will then land on the easier-to-clean-than-carpet tile floor.
Now, for those of you out there who aren't cat people, a little explanation. When a cat pukes, it doesn't just get a furball and upchuck. No, it takes careful planning and detailed execution by the cat to always hit the one carpeted area in the house. If they can't get to the carpet, furniture will do. Also, if you happen to be around, you get fair warning. The retching starts, which sounds a bit like a...well, I don't know what it sounds like. I can't come up with anything similar. It sounds like a cat getting ready to throw up. If you want to hear it, come to my house and hang out for about thirty seconds, because that's how often Tachi barfs. Anyway, so the cat starts retching, and you've got some time to get to it, but only if you act quickly.
So, essentially, my husband (and my friend's husband) have honed their cat-like reflexes to sprint on a nano-second's notice to the rescue of our barfing kitties.
This is just one of many, many reasons why we loooooove them. Our husbands. Not the cats. Though we love them too. Just not as much. You know.
It was nice to find out, however, that my husband isn't the only husband who responds in very humorous ways to cat barf.
Apparently, both hubbies have been known to a.) chase the kitty around the house, holding a newspaper or paper towel or just about anything they can get their hands on under the cat's chin, encouraging the kitty to, "Come on! You can throw up right there! Right there! Not on the carpet!" and b.) sprint at warp speed just to get to aforementioned hacking kitty and launch it into the bathroom, where the barf will then land on the easier-to-clean-than-carpet tile floor.
Now, for those of you out there who aren't cat people, a little explanation. When a cat pukes, it doesn't just get a furball and upchuck. No, it takes careful planning and detailed execution by the cat to always hit the one carpeted area in the house. If they can't get to the carpet, furniture will do. Also, if you happen to be around, you get fair warning. The retching starts, which sounds a bit like a...well, I don't know what it sounds like. I can't come up with anything similar. It sounds like a cat getting ready to throw up. If you want to hear it, come to my house and hang out for about thirty seconds, because that's how often Tachi barfs. Anyway, so the cat starts retching, and you've got some time to get to it, but only if you act quickly.
So, essentially, my husband (and my friend's husband) have honed their cat-like reflexes to sprint on a nano-second's notice to the rescue of our barfing kitties.
This is just one of many, many reasons why we loooooove them. Our husbands. Not the cats. Though we love them too. Just not as much. You know.
posted by Amy at 3:16 PM
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