A Cat for Halloween

It's been one of those mornings when I wish I hadn't a cat. We send that excuse for a feline out to the backyard on a leash whenever we can so she can chew on some grass. (Seguing here: who knew cats enjoyed grazing like cows? Until five years ago, when we got that fussy needy four-legged meow, I didn't. But it could be just my cat who actually likes the cowlike variety instead of the "legal grass" aka catnip. It would be. She's the contrariest cat in all catkind.)

Anyhoo, we send The Black Monster out so she can bask in the sun and chew cud in peace. We have to use a leash because we have coyotes in the area who'd really savor a nice chunk of her. Plus, she's such a 'fraidy cat, she's sure to get lost and sit shivering under a bush meowing piteously for Mommy and Daddy to come get her. Now usually, post the cud-chewing, the cat throws up. It's a ritual, and she's usually good about throwing up outside on the grass who the heck cares where.

But it was one of those mornings. The cat came in, made some alarming meows that had me rushing to her side to grab her and dunk her on the kitchen floor -- far far away from my new carpet. Then while I held her, she puked a lot of greenish liquid and a few shards of grass. Then she moved away and puked again. (Like I always sneeze twice, she always pukes twice.)

That's not the end of this so-not-amusing story. A few minutes later, I happened to be showing Raina a statue of Ganpati that we have on our mantelpiece. Raina's rather fond of Ganpatis and Lord Krishnas and insisted on seeing that one upclose before heading for a nap. So I stand on my tippy-toes balancing Raina and myself so we can check out the Ganpati, when I see a lot of dried yucky green pap next to the statue with a few damning pieces of grass stuck on the goo. Gross! It was clean up time again.

Anyone want a dratted black green-eyed monster in time for Halloween?