There are times when I wonder why we have a cat. Many, many times. Spenser has been a royal pain in the tookus lately, even more so now that the weather has turned cooler. I guess the cold bothers him more since he is a senior (he is 10+ years old), but I can hardly sit down without him trying to climb on my lap. I know that I am nothing if not warm furniture but does he have to be so obvious?
Spenser also sleeps far more than he used to and since he sleeps at night on our bed, he expects us to go to bed when he is ready. He glares at us and blares his loud meow when he thinks it is getting late. Nothing will quiet him down until we go to bed and he hops in after us.
In the wee hours of this morning, we were awakened by the sound of, well, heaving. No delicate way to put it - Spenser was getting ready to throw up. If it would have been light enough to see, we would have been treated to the sight of his whole body undulating...each heave starts at the end of his tail and works its way in a wave to his head. And he is LOUD; no delicate upchucking for him.
I decided that I was too warm and comfortable to get out of bed and try to move him onto tile. Several months ago I tried a similar maneuver in the dark, only to hit the recliner in the corner while running. I dropped Spenser, hit one armrest and flipped over onto the floor. Although J gave me a 9.8 for difficulty and 7.3 for style, I ended up with a hideous bruise on my side and Spenser still threw up on the carpet.
So I let him heave in peace last night, knowing what would be waiting for clean up this morning. To my surprise, after all that heaving and horking, only a quarter size spot was on the floor by the bed. Much ado, indeed, about nothing.
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