Strange things are afoot in my household! There is much hustling and bustling and the humans are moving all my beds around (aka the furniture). The favorite rocking chair is in a different place, and the favorite table for knocking drinks into the floor is....GONE! Worse is the fact that the favorite bench for hiding under has been moved next to the kitchen table and will not provide a secure place to run and barf, safe from the grabby hands of Typing Slave, who wants to heave me onto this cold, harsh tile floor. Something about easier clean-up.
So cruel, the naggy human. I find it comforting to spew on the serene brown rugs of the dining/living room, to watch the froth soak into the fibers, to be cushioned by the soft, woolen padding beneath my straining paws as my poor body contorts. The carpets were chosen so long ago to hide dirt and stains by Food and Typing Slave prior to the introduction of small things in this household...back when the only small things were cats. They knew cats would cause stains, they chose the rugs with cats in mind, and yet I am constantly denied their intended use? It makes no sense, especially when you consider I am also constantly denied the light colored rugs in the bedrooms during my time of vomitous need. As if Pink Thing hasn't already stained them with chocolate milk and various smears so much they look like aggregate pavement. And yes, I do know of aggregate, from my various escapes onto the porch and driveway whenever the door is open for longer than five seconds.
I believe I shall now leap onto the counter and see if there's any chocolate milk left over from breakfast so I can lap three sips of it and projectile puke somewhere....yet to be determined.
(That is my bench, so conveniently against the wall but now vulnerable to human snatching on all sides.)