Seriously, this is a gross story.
You should probably stop reading right now.
Don’t say I didn’t warn you.
This morning started like any other day. The alarm went off. I rolled over to hug The Boy and convince myself to get up. Oliver stomped on us and cried for breakfast.
I got up and followed the kittehs downstairs and gave them breakfast. Then I headed to the bathroom.
From the other side of the door I heard a kitten exploding.
I stepped carefully out of the bathroom and stepped gingerly through the kitchen. I saw no vomit.
What I did see was that all of the breakfast had moved, like magic, to one of the food plates. The kittehs were happily chowing down.
I stood there for a moment. Blinking. Thinking.
The kittehs continued to eat.
I shrugged and went to the couch. The secrets in the sauce.
Umm… yup. I rarely find kitty upchuck in my place because my very own Canine Cleaning Service usually beats me to it.
As I walked by a Cheerio on the kitchen floor this morning (that’s right, walked by – neither The Boy nor I have picked it up) I thought about how badly we need a dog.
After all, it barely even hit the floor of his stomach!
Lol! “From the other side of the door I heard a kitten exploding.” Love it!