So, I'll do my part by offering some of mine. I have extra, you see.
PLENTY TO SPARE.
That's because my two furry black and white angels, Moxie and Mimi, see fit to purge their bellies of unpleasant cargo at least three times a week onto my carpet. Generally, they perform this female feline ritual during the wee hours of the morning. It is not uncommon for me to wake up to the sound of "HACK. HACK. PUKE." This game is played much like Duck Duck Goose, if the goose at the end was half hairball/half digested tuna.
Now, I must admit that Mimi has struggled with bulimia for some time - since her early adolescence, in fact. I have told her repeatedly that her figure is perfect and you can't trust what you see in magazines - they totally photoshop Pepe le Pew's girlfriend - and I tell her she is beautiful - prettier than Pussy Galore - but I still find her binging on salmon at breakfast and then running into the bedroom and throwing up on the carpet. Adding insult to injury, organic cat salmon costs as much as organic people salmon. Thanks, Mimi. I'll just clean up the bile and small fortune you threw up on the carpet. And, no, Mimi, covering it up with my clean laundry won't help. Plus, during the hot months, Moxie adds her nausea to the mix.
However, as summer and my cats' digestive problems wear on, I find myself increasingly unwilling to undertake said clean-up. In my humble defense, when I moved into my loft, the carpet was already nasty. In fact, the first thing I noticed when I looked at my apartment the first time was the smell. I walked in the door and was hit by a wall of moldy old smoke-grime smell. The thinning brown-grey rag that covered the entire flat was apparently (twenty years ago) white and blue striped carpet. At the time, I stood in the entry way of the apartment and held my nose and asked my future landlady, "So, it will be cleaned before I move in, right?" And she said, "Oh, it's been cleaned." I knew then that there wasn't much more damage my two cats could do to it.
Thus, I have a few small patches of cat vomit collecting on my floor. I keep meaning to clean them, but pressing tasks like baking pumpkin custard keep getting in the way. This post will hopefully disgrace me into performing my pet guardian responsibilities.
The culprits:
The vomit:
The pumpkin custard:
