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 Curiosity Spilled The CatPosted 01.31.2007 by AssBlaster2000 (1116)
Editor's note: this was originally published on the forums.
Thursday morning, one week before Thanksgiving. It started out like any other. I got up at 8:30 or so and went into the computer room where Mr. Blaster was playing games after work. There were two small crusty spots on the carpet because one of our cats, Suzi, had puked twice the day before, and I hadn't done an efficient job cleaning them up. In fact, I hadn't cleaned one up at all because it had happened right before I had to go to work and I didn't have time. I figured that since my loving husband was sitting at the computer two feet away from it, he would get grossed out and, oh, I don't know, maybe clean it up or something. That puke had been kinda gross, too. Because of Suzi's hairball problem, she wasn't able to swallow it right, and it basically came right back up again. It looked like it just came out of the can. Anyway, I figured I ought to get out the spot shampooer and take care of the crustiness in the carpet. As our other cat, Barkley, who takes what may very well be the smelliest shits on the face of the earth, came in to honk a feline dirt snake, I figured it would be a good time to go get the spot shampooer ready and avoid the brunt of the smell. When I came back, I was figuring on cleaning up two tiny spots of leftover puke, but NOOOOOOO -- Barkley had something else in store for me. Something brown, and nearly two feet long, smeared on the carpet. I just sort of stared at this stain, puzzled, like a forensic investigator investigating the bloody aftermath of a murder scene. How did it get there? Why, oh why, was this poop trail so long? After inspecting the surrounding evidence, I deduced that Barkley had apparently had a mushy turd that didn't exactly exit her ass properly. It hung on like a dingleberry on steroids and attached itself to the bottom of her tail. This turd had plans on seeing the world. There was a large brown stain right where Barkley had stepped off the plastic that covers the carpet around the litter box, and a long trail about the width of her tail and somewhat longer after it. Apparently she had seen fit to drag her ass on the carpet. Greaaaaaat. Because it was fresh, the cleanup of this turd trail went without incident. The spot shampooer did its job, and Mr. Blaster went right on playing his computer game. I was going to sit back and relax a bit before getting ready for work until Barkley came -- nay, slunk -- into the computer room. There was something stuck to her tail. Carpet fuzz? Nay, dingleberries. Are you expecting any less by now? I took her over to the kitchen sink expecting to wipe her ass with paper towels. That was about as futile as shoveling snow with a spork. It was time for Barkley to get a bath. It's times like these that I'm eternally grateful for my Shower Massage. I blasted her little bum with a stream of water with one hand while holding her tail up with the other and trying to block her from escaping the bathtub with my legs. Dingleberries streamed toward the drain. I was so glad I hadn't taken a shower yet. The tub and then my feet were getting thoroughly rinsed and scrubbed. Barkley yowled like I was violating her with a prize-winning zucchini. Suzi scratched at the bathroom door, trying to free her companion from a watery demise. Mr. Blaster just kept on playing his computer game. This took longer than I had expected. It was like a dingleberry convention back there. Mr. Blaster came in to help, and Barkley calmed down nicely as he reassured her. At last the dingleberries were all gone, and we were left with a pissed-off wet kitty. Mr. Blaster dried her with our towels, and I was glad that I had put the dark green towels out instead of the good white ones. We let her go and she ran into the living room. I covered the good couch with blankets so she wouldn't get it wet -- and then I saw it. A nice little round brown stain right at the edge of the carpet. No, it never ends. I went into the kitchen to refill the spot shampooer and saw that I had made an error in judgment in taking Barkley to the sink. Poo. All over the sink. Where in my house wasn't there poo at this point? Well, those spots cleaned up rather uneventfully. The cat was clean, and it was finally time for me to take a shower and eat some damn breakfast. While I was eating, I said to Mr. Blaster, "Thanks for cleaning up Suzi's puke yesterday." "I didn't clean up the puke." Okay, ew. First ew from the fact that he didn't clean it up; and the second ew from wondering who did. Barkley. Thus my tip of the day: don't eat puke. It might give you dingleberries. (In Barkley's defense, Suzi's puke did look like it was fresh out of the can. In Mr. Blaster's defense, that room is mostly used for cats and computers, it's not a high-traffic area, and puke has been known to fester for a day in there if we are away. He was just following precedent. The carpet in there is thirty years old, and he did shampoo the carpets in there and in the living room the following Sunday.) (Suzi is now on a much stricter regimen of hairball medicine. She still pukes, but only because she's a stupid cat and eats too fast. Also, she doesn't really get the concept of chewing.) (Barkley seems to have learned from her experience, and doesn't eat the puke anymore. Apparently she's the smarter one. Everything is relative, I suppose. Her tail is also about three shades lighter.) Post new comment
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