So, Wednesday at work was just a bit hectic – nothing out of the ordinary, other than having to work on my annual self-review (a chore that I never particularly enjoy but #getmoneybitch). I was quite looking forward to getting home for the start of the long Thanksgiving weekend.
As usual, I heard my kitty-cat meowing his little head off as soon as I got off the elevator. It’s a pretty great way to be greeted, I must say. A somewhat less great way? Opening the front door and, before even laying eyes on my little cat friend, being enveloped in the hot, thick stench of a freshly laid cat poo. Honestly, I don’t understand how such an adorable creature can produce such a foul odor. Not to mention that he spends about ten minutes in his box, scratching and pawing all over the place yet manages to leave the poop sitting right on top of the litter like the cherry on a sundae, thus ensuring the smell permeates the entire apartment.
Anyway, after stopping to shovel some sand over the offending turd, I went to the bedroom and he followed me and jumped up on the bed, as is his habit. He did have the courtesy to affix me with a guilty stare, seeing as he’d had a couple of nice vomits on the blanket I’d just washed. I realize I’m anthropomorphizing, but it’s hard not to; not only did he appear shamefaced, he’d pulled the blanket over the offending mounds of puke. Poor little fella… Of course, I had to pick him up and squeeze him and tell him what a good boy he is (and yes, he totally understands every word – I’m convinced of it).
A quick trip down to the laundry room and soon enough his blanket was as good as new and back on the bed, nice and warm from the dryer. I think it was about 20 minutes later that he puked on it again… Sigh. Back to the laundry room – good thing I had plenty of quarters.
But it’s pretty much impossible for me to be mad at him (OK, I’m not especially fond of when he “helps” me change the bed linens). I don’t think he’s stopped purring since the moment I brought him home from the SPCA over eight years ago. Whenever I get home, he runs after me into the bedroom and jumps on the bed so he can demand to be picked up. And he cuddles with me every single night. He’s my best little buddy…