Last night, or actually very very early this morning, our cat came close to dying. I woke up because my leg was feeling....wet. Hmmm. I reached down to see what the heck was going on, and put my hand into a warm pile of kitty puke. On my bed. Soaking through the comforter to my leg. Eww ew ew ewww!
I leaped out of bed, and turned on the light. Yep. Kitty puke, right on my leg. All over the bed. Well, not all over. She managed to keep it all on my side, so Hubby wouldn't be disturbed. I stormed up the stairs to get paper towel etc, muttering rude things about the damn cat. Back down stairs, to scoop, wipe, and blot my blanket. Eventually I gave up, and got myself another blanket.
I actually felt bad for just flipping the stinky blanket over onto Hubby, until I found out later that he had been AWAKE. In fact, he woke up when the actual vomiting took place. He did nothing. He heard me discover the grossness, and said nothing. He stifled a laugh at the things I said to the &@^# cat, and stayed in bed whilst I stormed around cleaning and finding fresh bedding. He kept very still, and breathed nice and evenly when I flung my pissed off self back into bed, oozing crankiness.
Looking back, perhaps I was directing the nastiness at the wrong animal.