I’m living in what feels like an Emergency Room this week. Thankfully (at the time of publishing, at least) little Strawbug and I are feeling good, for a change.
So, we’re playing nurse.
The trouble started two nights ago at around 4am. Our little furball appeared meowing his little heart out. Constantly. After 20 minutes of walking around the house with him, still meowing, he disappeared under the bed and then silence… A few minutes later he re-appeared and started making the most unimaginable noise. A cross between choking and gasping for air. Shortly after, the poor little mite vomited everywhere. I didn’t realise such a little thing could produce so much spew!
2 minutes after that, we smelled it. Whilst under the bed, he’d burrowed into a storage box of clothes and “had an accident”. MY storage box of MY clothes, I hasten to add. In his defence, I worked out later that the 20 minute tour of the house was him looking for his litter tray (which we’d packed away only last weekend on account of the fact he hadn’t used it in a month now that we don’t lock him in overnight).
I wont share with you the details of the accident. Needless to say, again it was everwhere and it was rancid. It kind of amazes me though that, even through the gagging (of which there was much), all I could think of was my poor little furbaby and how bad must be feeling. Maybe it’s true after all, that having a cat is a good training exercise for having a baby?
I did get let off relatively lightly though. Being pregnant, I couldn’t clean up any of it. So, it fell to my brave (but very green and almost vomiting himself) beloved to make everything like new. My guess is I will be reminded of this when Strawbug arrives and experiences an equally icky accident!
You’ll be glad to know that my little cat is all better now. Unfortunately, my beloved isn’t. He’s taken up the gauntlet! No coincidence, I fear. I feel terrible that he’s been plagued after his good deed. I just hope he steers clear of my clothes box!