April 6, 2010

I'm Calling Her Crafty Instead

Last night Fluffy started puking near the pile of shoes we keep by the door for ambiance. I kept an eye on her to make sure she didn't christen any shoes. The shoes were fine. However, Mike's Frisbee took a hit from the shrapnel. But it's okay because I cleaned it. He'll never know. Or at least it will take him a few days when he finally gets around to reading this. Hi Sweetcheeks!

I left the puke to dry because it is waaaay easier to clean with a vacuum than with paper towels. To make sure Mike didn't walk on it when he came home late I covered it with a paper towel. I go back to watching my stories. A few minutes later the cat starts pawing at the towel. I figure she's doing her nasty cat thing of wanting to eat the barf so I remove the towel. She then starts pawing at a nearby pair of Mike's wind pants, pulling them towards her dinner's encore presentation. I pull them away from her and I think we are done here. We aren't. When I passed the scene of the crime later that night, Fluffy had covered the vomit with the wind pants! Totally covered it up- there was no puke to be seen. Sneaky little bugger!

So Mike- don't use the wind pants that look totally clean on the top of the laundry pile. They aren't. You can't say I didn't warn you. Cause I just did.


dad said...

I think Fluffy "knows where you live;" or "has your number;" or one of those appropriate clich├ęs. Need to communicate, intensely? Send a Barfgram© !

Tina Winston said...