Laverne threw up at 3:30 a.m. last night. I knew nothing about this except I awoke briefly to wonder why SH had the hall light turned on. I woke up at 9:30 this morning (super late) and he woke up to tell me that 1. Laverne had thrown up, 2. he had cleaned it up, and 3. the cats were locked in the furnace room.
The Throw-Up Queen. Pepe le Puke.
I got up, fed the cats (Laverne 1/2 rations), left them in the furnace room in case Laverne threw up again, and returned to bed, where SH and I speculated on the cause of the vomiting. Could it be Laverne's uncanny sense of timing trying to prevent us from going to Bonnie and Gary's lakehouse tonight as we had planned?*
Probably so. We like our friend Regina too much to ask her to go on vomit patrol and as our plan was to have her feed the cats tonight and tomorrow morning when we were gone, we reluctantly called Bonnie to cancel.
After an hour of listening to Laverne whine loudly (her MO when she is deprived of our presence), we decided that if she were going to throw up, she would already have done so. We made the stupid (this is foreshadowing) decision to let her out of the furnace room.
Thirty-seven seconds later, she was vomiting.
Underneath our bed.
On not one rug, but two plus a carpet pad. She misses the WOOD FLOOR we have in the rest of the 85% of the area available to her.
SH: Oh no! Oh no! Get her! Get her!
I grab her, take her back to the furnace room. She spews along the way. I return to the bedroom. SH is madly pulling at the rugs under and next to the bed.
Me: Wait. Stop!
SH: We have to clean this! We have to clean this!
Me: Slow down. It's OK.
SH is trying to lift the nightstand that anchors the side rug.
SH: We need to get this out!
Me: No! Let me get a spoon to lift this chunk of vomit off and the rest can dry.
SH: No! It has to be cleaned now!
Me: No, I don't want to use that chemical cleaner on my rugs.** She ate it less than an hour ago, so it's just chewed food with not much chemical in it. Don't rub it into the rug! It's just on top. It will dry and I can brush it off.
SH: We have to do it now! Aren't you grossed out?
Me: Not really.
Later, as we are deconstructing.
Me: One of my problems is that I am way too calm in an emergency.
SH: Yes. You need to learn to panic. You need to develop a sense of drama.
* Or could it be the bacon we gave her as a treat last night?
** The rug I got in Oaxaca and carried on the bus back to the US and the cowhide I got in Argentina only because my friend Jeff said, "If you don't buy it, I will." In retrospect, I should have let him get it because 1. it wasn't that great a bargain - I saw the same thing in San Antonio for about the same price and 2. once I had that darn thing, I had to carry it and it was heavy and I ended up mailing it to myself from Paraguay, which was not cheap.