Sunday afternoon my four year-old niece got to attend her first ever jewelry party (that's a big deal for any princess). Unfortunately for my Pudding Cup, her tummy hurt. It hurt so much that she sort of turned into a stinker and her mom called Daddy to pick her up.
Daddy did as he was asked. He picked up Pudding Cup and took her to Costco, where she promptly puked. She barfed again on the way home, and a few more times over the next 24 hours.
Yeah, that's gross. Vomit is never fun. I felt pretty bad for my sister (and my niece) until I went to bed that same night. Nothing could have prepared me for the horror that is my lil' Midgie.
Midgie Moomer is one of my cats. She's mostly white with some big black and brown patches. She is a true princess kitty - she'll cuddle with you when she's good and ready, but not a moment before.
During the winter Midgie likes to be roasty, toasty warm. During the day she lays on her big brother, Bucket, to soak up his heat. At night, she prefers to crawl under the covers and snuggle up to her mama. While it can be annoying when she steps on my bladder, I usually enjoy our cuddle fests. Sunday night she jumped right on the bed as soon as I turned out the light. I held up the edge of the blanket and she scurried on under.
Like many cats, Midgie has to investigate many possible resting locations before she'll commit. Sunday night was no exception. She walked in circles, stopped so I could pet her, then stepped onto my gut, backed up, walked up toward my head, crossed my chest and scouted out my left side.
During all of this, I continued to pet her. Midgie loves to get petting, and if you do it long enough, she drools. Yuck. Sunday night she drooled. Gag. I wiped it on my t-shirt.
Then she farted.
Then she drooled some more.
Hips. Wetness. Stinky farts.
I whipped back the covers, turned on the light, and forced the bile back down my throat. Midgie had dingle berries. Wet, sloppy, dingle berries. I did what any tired, disgusted woman would do.
"Oh, God - Midgie!!"
Yooper Stewart woke up and did what any protective man would do when his wife starts yelling the cat's name - he pinned her to the bed.
"No! Let her go!!"
The cat escaped, but her damage was done. Poop smear on my duvet, hands, teddy bear, and pajamas. I ripped everything off the bed and jumped in the shower. When I came back, Midgie had finally realized there was something amiss in her butt region and cleaned herself.
And because we each have our own twin sized down comforters for the winter, Yooper Stewart was sound asleep again on his unscathed side of the bed.
Give me a puking kid any day.
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