Huck….huck…huck. My sleeping brain said the sound was incongruous with my dream. I don’t recall what the dream was per se, but something was wrong…sorta like pulling on pantyhose while wearing sandpaper gloves…the mix wasn’t right. I listened for a short while longer and heard only normal house sounds like a furnace kicking on or birds chirping outside our window. Okay, it was the dream.
In the drowsy stage of pre-sleep I again heard huck…huck…huck, and then the wet sounds of purging. I cracked an eye open in time to see Pudgy tossing up a generous mound of very slimy kibble. On the blanket. Right by my stomach. Great.
My choices were slim. I could attempt to roll towards the edge of the bed in an effort to get up and clean the mess, but if I did that I would roll through the barfy gift. It didn’t sound like the best idea. Or, I could attempt to roll over my husband. However, he was once again plastered to my back like we had parachuted out of a plane in tandem. Also not sounding like a great idea. At the very least I would wake him, and, at worst, I would send the cat puke scattering onto the floor as the blankets lifted. I fell back asleep thinking about it.
A couple of hours later my husband started waking. In classic snuggle mode he attempted to throw an arm over me, but I blocked it before he found Pudgy’s little surprise. He shifted and tried again. I blocked him. In the third attempt his arm went over me and into the kibble before I could utter a “stop!”
His face registered surprise and then came the “Ewwww, what is that?” He lifted his hand and held it in the air like it had been singed in a roaring fire. Small chunks of slime glistened from his fingers in the early morning sun.
“I was trying to keep you out of it, but Pudgy threw up while we were sleeping,” I said. I made it sound like it happened every day, or night, as the case may be.
He was silent, lost in his confused thoughts, and then told me to stay put while he cleaned it up.
Do you know why it was the best part of my day? Because I have a husband who offered to clean up fresh cat barf? Well yes, but there is more. It was the best part of my day because not once did my husband seem upset about waking up and sticking his hand in squishy kitten regurgitation. In fact, as he was scrubbing the blanket he looked at Pudgy–who was staring at us with mournful eyes—and said softly, “Are you feeling better little girl?” Gotta love that man.
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