Friday, October 24, 2014

Cats ... ya gotta love 'em

by Lorraine Bartlett / Lorna Barrett / L.L. Bartlett

October is (among other things) National Cat Month.  It's a time for all us cat lovers to celebrate what we love about our cats.

These are my guys, sleeping under the 200 watt light bulb in Mr. L.'s office.  They love it there.  They don't, however, love each other.  It's only because they're asleep that there's no hissing or growling.  I think (secretly) they all wish they were only cats.

Yes, having cats isn't all fun.  Take what happened to me last week as an example.  There I was, sound asleep at 12:09 am. But at 12:10,  I was jolted awake by the sound of a cat retching in my ear.  I quickly turned on light just as Mr. L's cat, Chester, projectile vomited ALLLLLL over the bed and on other our other cat Betsy, who'd also been sound asleep.

I quickly grabbed Chester in time for second of three barfs. (Yes, in our house barfing comes in threes.)  I leapt out of bed and deposited Chester on the hardwood floor (not bedside rug).  While he finished his next two rounds of vomiting, I grabbed a large wad of tissues from the bedside box and started to mop up.  Betsy was still sitting on the bed looking bewildered. Mr. L was foggy, like he didn't know what the heck was going on.

Like dealing with the Borg, I realized clean-up was futile, so I started unbuttoning the duvet cover, only to realize the duvet is also soaked.  I toss them both in guest bedroom to deal with in the morning, then go get a spare duvet and cover. That's when I discovered that vomit is also all over bottom sheet.  I tossed Mr. L of bed, who then just stood there and WATCHED but didn't offer to help me remake bed,which took FOREVER. (Damn all those duvet buttons at 12:15 am.)

Once the bed is made, Mr. L gets back in and promptly goes back to sleep. But my work is not done.  Oh, no.  First I must empty the wastebasket full of vomity tissues.  Next, I hunt down Betsy, who still has vomit all over her tail.  I capture her and commence to wash her off.  Betsy does not appreciate this and screams bloody murder, then runs away in fear and anger.

Finally, at about 25 after, I get to go back to bed.  Chester is already back in bed, cuddled next to his sleeping dad, and looking happy and satisfied, while I must resist the urge to scream at him for fear of waking up the neighbors.

I had to read for almost an hour before Betsy forgot the tail-washing incident and came back to bed.

Meanwhile in the back of my mind was the mantra I've repeated many, many times.

I love cats.  I love cats.  I love cats.

Surely, I'm not the only one with a story like this to share.  I hope you'll leave YOUR story in the comments and we can all commiserate.