Ah Fridays! The only thing better than a Friday is a Friday-Off-Work.
Yup, vacation days are the best! Er.... at least I THOUGHT it would be.
Until I discovered the four resident furballs here had other plans:
Furball #1: AKA Casey The
Within a few minutes of greeting the snowy morning, she decides it's the perfect time to get sick; on the rug under the living room coffee table of course... not on the tile kitchen floor mere feet away.
Gag. I get out the paper towels and cleansers and drop to my knees.
Furball # 2: AKA Tawnee The
After feeding the three cats (and the now-famished dog), I put on the kettle and load up the Starbucks coffee press for some much-needed caffeine.
Instead of waking up properly to the aroma of freshly-brewed Kenyan, I am startled coherant by the multiple and progressively louder "crashes" emanating from the basement. Descending the stairs to investigate, Tawnee The Perpetrator dashes past me upstairs, tail pouffed out in fright like a Swiffer brush. As in true feline fashion, she had been climbing and toppled a pile of boxes.
Great. Another job on my To Do List today.
Furball # 3: AKA Dakotah the
UnLucky Black Cat:
Not to be outdone by the dog, Dakotah decides to get into the act.
As I pour milk into my yummy brekkie of cornflakes, strawberries and bananas, I cringe at the unmistakenable sound every pet owner knows only too well... that repetitive horking, a premonition of trouble soon on its way.
And right on cue she gets sick; and no, NOT on the easy-to-clean tile kitchen floor.
Of course not! She regurgitates all over my favorite comfy recliner where I had just started up my laptop so I could eat, put up my feet and do some surfing.
I again get out the paper towels and cleansers.
While my cereal turns to mush.
Furball # 4: AKA Sheba the
I swap the soaking seat cushion with one from another chair, get fresh cereal and pour a huge mug of steaming coffee. Carefully placing the mug on a cloth placemat on the coffeetable, I finally partake of my cereal in my chair by the window. Sheba resumes her usual spot, perched on the armrest patiently waiting to lick the bowl clean when I am done.
After she finishes polishing off the remaining milk, she jumps to the table to investigate my coffee... and promptly gets her claw hooked on the placemat.
Panicking, she shakes the mat violently in a vain attempt to loosen her velcro grip. Failing that, she leaps from the table, mat still hooked to claw, tossing my full mug of coffee and splattering its contents all over the table, rug, remote control and me.
And as I once again get out the paper towels, cleansers and begin my fourth cleanup job of the morning, I wonder why the hell I took a day off work in the first place.
Oh, yeah. I remember. I was going to relax at home today.
How silly of me to forget.
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