Another Post about Puking

You know, it's not just Big D who pukes at the drop of a hairball. The slaves pulled up in the driveway the other day, home from Grandma's, and Pink Thing stood up from her booster seat and kipped all over the diaper bag, her feet and her sister. I saw this as I sat perched in the bedroom window, inspecting my domain. It amused me greatly to see the slaves running amuck like cats with fleas, taking the children to the bathtubs for cleansing and hollering at each other about Lysol and antibacterial wipes and the need to shampoo the carpet in the vehicle before the 95 degree temperatures baked in the barf.

The whole thing made their arrival all that much more exciting, especially when they forgot to close the door and Big D and I nearly escaped. I was lured back into the house by the annoying fragrance of OTHER CATS on the slave's possessions, so I had to spend a good portion of the next hour rolling and rubbing and scratching at the items they brought home with them. Well, except for that diaper bag. It had puke all over it.

Due to a lack of subsequent kippage, the big ones wrote Pink Thing's incident off to motion sickness, but that didn't stop Big D from flashing his hash when they'd only been home an hour. Granted, his was catfood and Pink Thing's was biscuits and gravy, or so I hear, but D's reputation as the only kakker in the family is unfairly earned.

Isn't it funny when we get the slaves all flustered like that? Even funnier when the small slaves help us cats in creating such entertaining shows.

Sincerely,
MK