One of the odder manifestations of life with four cats involves their vomiting.
Yes, this is disgusting. I am talking about vomit, of course it’s disgusting. If you cannot take it, read no further.
Almost all the vomiting that takes place in this house involves Gilbert and Uma. It is a function of Gilbert’s long hair and the haste he takes in eating, and of Uma’s delight in grooming everybody. Rare indeed is the day when we don’t get a contribution from one or the other, and it is usually both.
Whenever there is a vomit, the question gets shouted from one human, to the other: “Is it Gilbert, or Uma?”
The other two are never even considered. They are presumed innocent.
Now, Gilbert spent a month or so away from us in the home of a friend whose adoption of him didn’t take. (Persnickety landlord.) She noted Gilbert’s daily vomits and thought there was something seriously wrong with him. The answer, of course, is that there is not. He is a long-haired cat. He is a binge eater. Vomiting is his thing. Once he re-entered our home, it became our responsibility, and we roll our eyes and clean up after him, feeling no special concern for the state of his health. His weight is actually perfect, according to the vet. It is just something that happens.
Then, recently, Farrow vomited.
First time in years.
You would think it a major medical emergency. OH MY GOD! FARROW VOMITED ONCE! THAT’S NOT RIGHT! SHE’S NOT SUPPOSED TO DO THAT!
She seemed okay enough, and so we calmed down, feeling better after the absence of recurrences.
And then, also recently, Harley vomited. Again, first time in years.
OHMYGOD! WHAT’S WRONG WITH HARLEY?
Hundreds of yearly vomits from the cats who vomit, we shrug and clean up and take in our stride. *One* vomit from the cats who don’t vomit and we totally lose our shit.
This has been an adventure in cat ownership.
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