I ask you, is there any creature more contrary than a frigging cat?
Answer – two cats.
Because, I swear to you, they collude….
In the years BC (before cats), I had beautiful natural wool off white flooring that I managed to keep immaculately clean for a good eight years.
Since being a kitty momma, it has gradually deteriorated after being clawed to smithereens, having litter walked into it, and having hairballs and undigested cat crunchies vomited on it on practically every other day.
I groom my mogs whenever I can get hold of them, but Dex is pretty fluffy and Charlie is prone to ‘scarfing and barfing’ his food anyway (because he thinks quite rightly that Dex will steal it, given half the chance) so even though I clean up any stains and deposits as soon as I can, my flooring is a patchy, scratchy shadow of it’s former self, so the time has come to have it replaced.
Aware of the havoc that these cute, innocent looking, furballs of destruction can create, I’ve taken care to do all my research with regard to avoiding loops, light colours and anything that might stain.
I then narrowed it down to four options and ordered some samples to ensure that it complemented my decor and now have found one that fits the bill perfectly.
The only fly in the ointment is that whilst a brand might say that their carpets are stain proof, vomit contains stomach acid, and if I’m at work (hah!) and this stuff is allowed to sink into the pile for a number of hours, it could still stain, so I had a brain wave.
Next time one of them puked, I would scoop it up <retch>, pile it up onto the carpet sample, then leave for eight hours or so and see if it survives the ordeal.
Congratulating myself on my canniness, I planned ahead and got some quotes with a view to have something fitted within the fortnight, and waited for one or both of them to screw their little faces up, make that awful honking noise and produce the goods.
That was over three weeks ago.
After approximately five years of chucking up nearly every other day, their mouths are, as of now, resolutely welded shut and they haven’t so much as regurgitate a single, solitary kibble.
How. Can. This. Be?
And, more to the point, why?
I eyed Dex crunching his way delicately through his breakfast this morning, and whilst I’m not cruel enough to do anything to make him puke, I wish I could give him a temporary weight complex so that maybe he’d ram his paw down his throat just this once.
‘Putting a bit of timber on there Dexter, look at that belly! Are you sure you haven’t eaten too much today? Summer’s a-comin’!’
This doesn’t even break his stride. He just looks at me scathingly and carries on regardless. I forget he wasn’t around for my eating disorder days.
And I just know the minute I throw these carpet square in the bin, they’ll be back to putting Regan from ‘The Exorcist’ to shame.
So with regard to re-carpeting my flat, I am literally at their mercy.
And I thought I was Top Cat.
Whenever you’re ready boyz, whenever you’re ready……