Friday, July 25, 2003


Being the opposite of astute in the morning, I rarely look where I am walking when I'm getting up and heading toward the bathroom to get ready for work. This morning on the way to grab some fresh clothes from the chest I stepped on something cold and wet. Hairball. The really funny thing about it was that I was GRATEFUL to have stepped on JUST a hairball. Usually what I step in is a big greasy pile of kitty vomit, hacked up by our personal vomit machine Baxter (the white kitty in the back of the boat). Now, there's nothing wrong with Baxter. He just eats like a pig and spews up what won't fit later on--usually on the bed while we're gone. Or in my shoes. Or in the fringe of the area rugs.

Anyway, someone else must have hacked during the night (which I can't believe I slept through) because it's the other cats that expel the long tubes of nastiness. The first time I saw a hairball I thought it was poop. The first time I saw my cats puke one up, I was mortified. I was ready to call 911. Then, it was like, "OH! So THIS is a hairball."

But nothing could beat Sadie's massive dog vomit on the bed a couple of weeks ago. I could tell she wasn't feeling well, so I was laying on the bed with her. Whine, whine. Aw, Sadie what is it, girl? YAA-A-A-A-A-CK. Oh. She must have puked up 16 ounces of the most foul-smelling vomit I have ever encountered in my life right on the blanket. We gave her two teaspoons of Pepto, but not before she yacked again on the couch. I spent the entire night cleaning up vomit and gagging on the smell. It was truly vile. She got better after the Pepto and hasn't had any problems since, thank God. Needless to say, we have a variety of stain cleaners, Spot Lifter equipment and a poor, worn out (but almost new) vacuum cleaner. We need a new one once a year.

I actually spun up some of the cats' hair the other day on the Kiwi, but it was a little short. I was too lazy to card it up with much wool.


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