Reason #157

Why I love my husband.

Time: 4:00am Saturday morning
Place: Bedroom


Those with cats know this sound. You know what's about to happen, but there's no stopping it. There's no getting the cat to safe ground, no deciding where it will happen. Yes, I'm talking about the gagging, hacking, gut-wrenching sound cats make right before they blow chunks all over your floor.

This happened at 4:00am on Saturday. I was awakened by that god-awful noise right next to my bed. The cats usually sleep with us because they are the rulers of the household and anything they say, goes. Luckily Simba had the manners to jump off the bed before he puked. Unluckily we have carpet, not hardwood floors or tile, which makes cleaning up cat puke all the more fun. He also decided it was appropriate to purge half of the vomit onto my bra laying on the floor.

I heard him gag a few times, then the splatter of nastiness come from his mouth onto the carpet. So, I said, "Honey, turn on the lights, I think one of the cats just puked." So, from a dead sleep I see my wonderful husband wake up and turn on the lights. I roll over to find a huge nasty black bug in the middle of cat juice quickly seeping into our carpet. After shouting some obscenities, I go to get up and clean the carpet. My amazing husband says "No, go back to sleep, I'll do it." What ... what did you just say? I believe he said he would clean up the cat barf!

So from his restless slumber he crawled out of our cozy little bed and came back with carpet cleaner, scrubber, water sprayer and a paper towel. Not only did he clean up the cat puke, but he cleaned it up thoroughly and correctly!! There was no trace, whatsoever, leftover on the carpet.

This makes me hopeful come time to have kids (no, I'm not prego, don't even ask). When the baby's crying I will be expecting to hear, "No honey, go back to sleep, I'll go." At least that's what I'm hoping for, or would he rather wake up to clean up cat puke than go comfort our future son?*

*I say son because I doubt we will have daughters. No females have been born into his family in years. Though I would love a little girl, I'm afraid I will be run-over with football-playin', testosterone-filled little boys, as he would have it no other way. That, or I'll have ballet-dancing, shoe-crazy, estrogen-filled gay sons who take after me rather than their dad ... "Not that there's anything wrong with that."