My cat Elvis, who recently turned 18, is – well, he’s 18. He is a very elderly cat. Definitely has a touch of arthritis, doesn’t go out much, he’s an old man who wants nothing from life but to be fed regularly (canned food only, his old mouth can’t handle the dry stuff) and then curl up in my lap to sleep. Unfortunately, his old stomach doesn’t work as well as it once did, and so he’s taken to barfing at odd moments after eating. “Odd” meaning while sitting in my lap. If I hear him do a preliminary “urp” I’ll dump him on the floor (arthritis or no), but sometimes he just barfs right on me. I’ve been washing the mini quilt I keep on my lap at the computer about once a week over the last few months.
This morning he was up in my lap but hadn’t quite gotten comfy, so he was still sitting up and looking around when he ralphed – so he got the keyboard. And the wrist rest. And the quilt.
Effin’ cat.