Pickles & Dimes

Recently, as Jason and I were getting ready for bed one night, we realized Abby had thrown up. She always springs these disgusting and multiple paper towel-using surprises on us at the most inconvenient times, such as right when we’re drifting off to sleep, or right after we’ve woken up and are stumbling contact-less through the darkened hallways, or right as I’m leaving the house for work.

Her surprises also include the uncanny ability to vomit on carpet. This may not seem like a big deal, but she only pukes upstairs, which is 90% covered in hardwood flooring. But yet she manages every time to sprint over to our very small area rug, where we’ll find piles of cold, regurgitated cat food in colors and textures that defy explanation.

I think these surprises are messages. Messages that say: I may not have opposable thumbs, but by god, I will puke in the most inconvenient place possible just to mess with you. And? That sleep you were hoping for tonight? Well, I just slept for 17 hours and I’m ready to go, baby.

The next morning, after a very sleepless night in which I laid awake on high-alert trying to prevent Abby from catapulting onto the headboard to paw at the window shades, which apparently, can only be pawed at during the NIGHT, I doled out their treats – which Sunny devoured without chewing – and as I laid Abby’s in front of her, she looked up at me and walked away, settling in a different spot. She then looked up at me, looked at the treats, looked back at me again and gave a short meow.

The implication was obvious: Move these treats closer to me.

The treats that were only a foot away.

I complied.

I know – shut up. I only did it because I really need that sleep at night, man.