We are soooo going to barf on the carpet

One of the local nurseries I like to frequent always has pots of “cat grass” at the checkout. The  “cat grass” is actually wheat grass, the stuff you see people taking shots then doing spit takes of at health nut cafes in comedies.


Sometimes an overindulgence in the grass leads to less funny spit takes at home. However the grass really adds to the cat spa ambiance, and it makes them so damn happy.

If only they were so easily harnessed as tiny lawn mowers.


Am I supposed to laugh or cry?

Laugh?: Wednesday morning I put on a pair of jeans and found $26 dollars in the front pocket! No idea why. I could not figure out when I wore them last, or why that much cash was there. (This may also be a comment on how efficiently I do laundry.) I took that windfall as a sign that it was going to be a good day.

Cry?: Friday morning I woke up to some cat spit and grass bits in the hallway. Somebody couldn’t handle their fresh pot of greens, but a little cat spit is easy enough to deal with at 5:45 a.m.

Cat spit is one thing, a poo on the kitchen rug is another. I had to stare at it a really long time because it was the perfect shape of a really dense hairball. A hairball would make sense in combination with cat spit and grass bits, but something wasn’t quite right. It was poo.

While cleaning that up, I discovered that I had narrowly missed stepping on two tiny poos at the kitchen entrance. I understand the random dingle-berry that gets stuck to someone’s furry haunches, but the poo of intent raises too many questions. Who pooed in the first place?! Is someone sick? Is someone angry? Was the bathroom full and the poo couldn’t wait? Did the rug need dominated? I DON’T KNOW! People at work said this is why you’re only supposed to have ONE cat; it eliminates doubt.

Poos resolved, I proceeded with my morning routine: fed everyone, took a shower, got partially dressed, finished most of a cup of coffee, stumbled back to the kitchen to put coffee in thermos.


The previously pooed on rug was now smeared with vomit while a second pile dripped on the cat tree. I gave up on the rug and threw in the washing machine; too many bodily fluids to just wipe up before a school day.

I wish I could say that this is where it all ended, but that afternoon I came home to ants trailing across the kitchen to the front door. Much like one of the cats, I then lost my shit.


Cry rainbows, drink wine.



Vomitus Feles

Updated: 1/23/2015 Olivia had  a v-e-t appointment after the exciting night of vomiting. I basically told my vet the story below although I’m sure she wishes that I would just get to the damn point and stop trying to be dramatic and funny. She was also disappointed that I did not have any videos or pictures  of the puking. I told her that it was not terribly interesting puke.

She said that I needed to call Purina because there was clearly something wrong with the food and legally they HAVE to report this to whoever reads reports on this type of thing. Inward sigh because I knew that can was at the very bottom of the kitchen trash. When I got home, I took one for the cat team, gloved up, and dug it out. Although the woman on the Purina end of the  line kept saying that she saw nothing showing as being wrong with this product – I had to read her the UPC code and the series of numbers on the bottom of the can- she also kept saying that she would register/share/report this information and apparently send me coupons.

And here’s how my Monday evening is going…

I fed all the furballs what I thought was a lovely dinner of kibble and the Feast that is Fancy and then the action started. Thankfully cats make a lot of noise before actually vomiting! Yeah!

True story.

True story.

Olivia threw up very enthusiastically on the laminate floor at the back of the house in the Happy Morning Sunshine Room. (Currently the Early Evening Dark Outside Barf on Mommy’s Floor room) While keeping her in place because cats want to travel and puke generally backing away from whatever mess they’ve made, I heard another cat at the other end of the house start the vomiting song of their people. It was Miles; he barfed at the other end of the room on the rug by the front door.

Thinking that Olivia was done, I ran to scoot Miles on to the kitchen tiles for Round 2. Round 1 is usually solid food. Round 2 can also be solid food, but usually starts transitioning into solid food plus liquidy stomach goo. I thought that they were both done and had started the clean up process when they both started gagging again under my computer table. I got them on to the recently wiped and cleaned up laminate. I might be ready for the Olympic event: Cat Vomit Toss. I got some puke on Miles’ paws because he barfed mid swing on to the laminate.

Put both in the laundry room where they could puke wherever. Started clean up… again. The I heard Birdie yodel from hallway. I got her over laminate in time. The Happy Morning Sunshine Room may not come back from this. I tossed her in the laundry room with the other two. We will not be having Classic Fancy Feast beef dinner again.

Captives (Cat-tives?) released from laundry room after a v-e-t approved dose of Pepcid AC. (1/4 tab each)


This paragraph interrupted by the sound of Birdie getting ready to heave again. This round led to a screaming chase (I was screaming) down the carpeted hall where thankfully she ended up on the bathroom tile. Apparently her two really solid pukes earlier were not good enough and she needed to get in the liquid goo on the end of any good puke.

Diagnosis: Olivia says her throat hurts again and that she plans on barfing up anything with kibble even if they are mixed with wet food. This means that we need to go to the v-e-t…again.

I thought Miles was over his issue of finding some/too much wet food too rich for his tum. Guess I was wrong.

Birdie just saw a chance to be part of the group?

There was something seriously wrong with the canned food? This is why I haven’t used canned cat food for years, but with Olivia’s recent issues it has become a part of the routine.

Sookie says that she will wait until  3 a.m. to barf in a secret location where, in my disoriented and sleep deprived state, I will only be able to hear but not find her.

Perhaps from the closet, perhaps under the bed? Who can tell?

Perhaps from the closet, perhaps under the bed? Who can tell? Only the Sookie knows.


Tea, Cat Blankets, and Resolutions

I have not had coffee since New Year’s Day.

This is a horrible statement to make and it absolutely is not some kind of New Year’s resolution. I like my warm morning cup of coffee especially on days when I have time to sit and enjoy it with a book and a cat spread over me. Unfortunately, I’ve been a bit concerned about what my stomach will do with coffee so it has been green tea and lemons for me. The caffeine withdrawal might partially account for my disoriented state and tendency towards narcolepsy.

On New Year’s Day I woke up with a queasy stomach and did not feel compelled to eat anything until late in the afternoon. I threw that up an hour or so later. When I explain this, I assume people are wondering just how much partying I did on New Year’s Eve. I don’t think that the two Dixie cups of white wine I had can be blamed. I was lucky to stay awake until midnight and then had to drive myself home so no mass quantities of booze were consumed. I did sit around the kitchen table cackling with my lady friends and consuming mass quantities of snackie snacks that I was willing to blame for the queasiness.

However the upset stomach, aches, chills, and lethargy persisted. I will never be one of those triumphant sick people who accomplish all kinds of feats despite their problems; it took two days for me to finally leave the house to go to Target to get something that might make me feel better. I spent my time sleeping in both bedrooms because neither bed was consistently comfortable, taking multiple baths because I was never the right temperature, consequently falling asleep in the bath tub, and getting up at 4 am to take the hottest shower I could because I was sure that was the only thing that would let me sleep. My lower back ached and the hot water seemed to at least help that one symptom.

The epitome of old and out of shape is hurting your back when you throw up. In movies, cartoons, and college etc….people seem to throw up like this:

The Movie Throwup


Head buried in the toilet, hands firmly grasping the porcelain edges. Throwing up is gross enough without using this technique. I don’t touch that much of my toilet directly with my hands when I clean it much less dunk my head in it and hang on. Even if it was sparkling clean and not previously used as a vehicle for bowel evacuation, putting my head that close to the bowl and water would guarantee splash back. I have enough trouble clearing things like bits of toast and asparagus out of my sinuses after vomiting without needing a full facial and hair wipe down.

I throw up like this:

Firmly braced for puke.Away from the bowl, but not so far as to miss. Feet planted and arms firmly braced on thighs. Sharply conscious always -ah to puke and forget- that any vomiting sequence takes 3-4 heaves for completion. This stiff positioning may account for the pulled back muscles. Maybe I need to limber up first. I tried searching the Internet for a medically recommended position for more efficient and comfortable vomiting, but just found some disturbing online chats and how to induce vomiting. I think I’ve got that part covered.

***Side note: the stick people I draw during meetings are much better.

Best meeting ever!

The cats persevered through my ridiculousness, acting as warm, furry lap blankets, and more or less sleeping with me since I had clearly turned into a large cat that was trying to sleep 16 out of 24 hours each day and seemed to lay down whenever and wherever I felt like it. (That was the worst part about going back to work yesterday. I felt awful, and I couldn’t lay down. “Children, I’ll just be under my desk. Learn on your own.”) Miles would contribute absolute dead weight to whatever blankets I was using. It’s lucky that I only had to throw up once because I never would have made it in time, if I had to disentangle myself from the blankets and Miles who refused to move on his own. Maybe he was trying to tell me that he had other resolutions to make and that I should just suck it up.

Cat Resolution #4

Resolve to take care of and snuggle with your companions. (Cat-panions)

My friends don’t respond well to either of these approaches.


Cat Resolution #5

Resolve to play as if the anti-anxiety medication that you willingly take only 50% of the time, is wrestled down your throat by the human about 30% of the time, and is probably eaten by one of the other cats about 20% of the time actually works.

Resolve to play.

Resolve to play.

Thank goodness today was a snow day.