I guess I’m a cat person, but I could do without the vomiting

I don’t necessarily believe in the whole cat-person vs. dog-person idea, but if someone had a gun to my head I guess I’d have to say I’m a cat person. While some may say that cats are less “loving” than dogs and that they don’t pay much attention to us humans, I find their personalities to be much more independent and I respect like that. And I know dogs have some nasty habits like eating their own poop and smelling each other’s asses, but I think cats may have dogs beat when it comes to vomit.

There’s something about the unmistakable pre-vomit sound a cat makes. It’s just gross, and one of the first thoughts that goes through my mind is: God, I hope he/she is not on the carpet … please let him/her be on the tile … *fingers crossed*. A couple months ago Mazey was up on the top level of our kitty jungle gym when we first heard it. Emily and I were in bed, but even though the gym is in the same room it’s not like you can reach up there, grab the little furball, and carry her to the bathroom before the action starts. You’re pretty much stuck observing the upchuck and hoping it doesn’t get TOO much of the dresser on the way down.

The most recent occurrence involved the alpha-cat of the house, Henry. It was pretty standard. We were sitting in the loft (probably watching Scrubs, 30 Rock or The Office) when he began to show the signs of an impending episode. Luckily (I thought) we had some napkins on the coffee table, so I decided to avoid the carpet cleanup by stealthily slipping a napkin in front of Henry to catch everything. Well, he wasn’t too happy with my quick movements and decided to relocate, right in the middle of throwing up. I tried again when he stopped, but again I was not quick enough and he moved again. So instead of having one spot to clean, I ended up with a few spots, connected by little drops. It wouldn’t have been that bad except for the fact that Henry had eaten something that made everything a very unnatural shade of orange. Go figure.

EDIT (24MAR2009 @ 01:20 hrs): Emily has informed me (as you can see in the comments below) that the culprit of this event was actually Watson, and not Henry. Sorry Henry 😦


Golden Girls, catfights and the dentist

Tonight I’m watching the Golden Girls for some reason. I’m sitting here in a leather chair with my feet up, the remote is on the arm, but I’m not changing the channel. I have to get up fairly early because we have an appointment at the vet to have Henry’s back leg looked at. Saturday morning, at around 7:50 am, we woke up to hissing, growling and cat screaming. I ran to the doorway where Henry and Sebastian were fighting and rolling in a cartoon-like ball of catness. Sebastian’s the new cat in the house, and so far they’ve been getting along pretty well. We think they were having a small fight, but then one of them knocked over a large picture frame we have leaning against the wall. The picture frame fell onto them and made a ton of noise, setting the small hissing match into overdrive. I finally got them separated, but Henry suffered a small wound on the back of his right leg. He’s not really limping or anything, but it did seem to bleed quite a bit.

[Side note: as I sit here another episode of Golden Girls is starting.]

After the vet appointment, I have a dentist appointment. It’s a pretty simple one–I’m just having a cap re-cemented–but the underlying tooth is the real problem. I’ve had two, (yes two!) freaking root canals on the exact same tooth and it still hurts when you tap on it or I bite into something hard like a tortilla chip. They keep using temporary cement in case I need work done on it, but at this point I’m getting frustrated.

[Final Golden Girls note: Blanche Devereaux had some nice legs.]