The Bad Guy Appreciation Station

my first thought is to "take the bullet for the president." the bullet of course being cat yack, and the president being the thick luxurious carpets of my bedroom.

i discard this thought. im clean. i like being clean. i have been clean for only four seconds.

my second thought is to remember that there is a large, plastic sheeted area in the corner near the cats food bowl. ms. kitty is a messy eater, so she has to eat on the sheet.

i grab my cat and toss it across the room onto the sheet. i feel like im throwing a live grenade out of my trench. cat drives heaves once in my arms, then throws up in midair, approximately one foot out of my grasp.

i watch the barf fly in the same arc as my cat. conservation of momentum. theres not much velocity imbued by peristalsis.

both land at the same time. vomit splats. cat lands gracefully. she turns around, looks at me with total serenity, and throws up a second time. still on the plastic. i tell her that shes a great cat for staying still to do that. she does not give a shit.

i get some dirty clothes out of my laundry hamper and pile them up so she can sit on them. she loves dirty laundry. cats are nasty like that. i clean up the barf and she watches with interest. i have tossed her across the room, and now, stolen her barf. i am utterly befuddling to her. she tolerates me though because i give good scritches.

i toss the vomit soaked paper towels into the trash and come back with a bowl of bottled water (she has preferences) and a cat squeezy treat. she accepts three sips of water but declines the treat. very reasonable. i go back downstairs and put the treat in a ziplock in the fridge so she can have it tomorrow. i come back and shes trotting on her wheel.

i ask how long shes been able to do that. she doesn't answer - in part because she is a cat, but mostly because she is an asshole. she just keeps jogging. i turn to walk away and she meows at me to spin the wheel faster.