At 6:10 this morning, Flip pried Truffle out of my hair and fed her so she would leave me alone. At 6:24, we learned that barfing on guitar effects pedals does not have the same effect as pissing on the third rail of a train track. Bulimicat had struck again.
I opened one eye and saw Flip kneeling under his recording table, naked and muttering "Dickhead" as he swiped at a large gooey chicken-smelling puddle that oozed over his chromatic tuner, tube screamer and onto the digital delay pedal.
"What is she trying to say?" he asked me. "It's a hell of a statement."
I had no idea. It's hard to know with a cat. By this time, she had crawled miserably back into my hair, seeking comfort because she sensed that Flip might be annoyed with her. I stroked her little head and she began to purr.
"DICKHEAD!!"
We both turned our attention back to Flip, who had just discovered that his noise suppressor and compression sustainer were also tainted with liquid chicken mixed with cat hair.
"No more feeding her in the early morning," he announced. He seemed to be speaking through clenched teeth.
"It's not a matter of when she eats," I said. "It's how much. We should give her less." I reminded him that it could have been worse. She could have yakked inside the Martin, the Les Paul Goldtop, or one of his other guitars. That would have been much worse, trying to scoop it out with Q-tips through the sound holes.
He would have had to kill her.
It was easy for me to be a cheery Pollyanna because I was still in a nice warm bed with a purring cat snuggled beside me while Flip was ass out in the cold morning air, swabbing. A musician's life is fraught with peril.
22 comments:
I remember cat puke only too well! Ugh! Nasty stuff! Poor Flip! :)
Peace,
~Chani
That's too funny. I can relate. If I bought a beautiful little area rug that cost a fortune, say, that would be the spot my Siamese cat, Samantha, would find to barf up a hair ball that looked like a small, wet animal.
Chani,
There are three Persian rugs in that room. I think she was trying to spare them, which was most considerate.
Josie,
This toxic spill apparently looked like several small, wet animals. I took his word for it, though.
Ergh, cats. Exasperating little beasties.
We had a boy kitty when I was growing up who sprayed the family tent while it was folded up in the basement. The stench never did come out.
I am adept at ignoring the sound of barfing cats, safe in the knowledge that it will bug my husband much more than it does me, and he will get up and clean.
I am evil!
Aaaaw poor baby, being sick...she wouldn't have done that lightly either, caught her unawares.
Hey did you know horses are not able to vomit. They can choke though.
Pam
"I stroked her little head and she began to purr. Dickhead." Out of context, this strikes this critic as soft porn. Carry on.
Poor Flip. Maybe covering his guitar stuff with a tarp before going to bed will save them from bulimicat. omg, I am laughing at that name.
Eastcoaster,
Cat spray is forever.
Meno,
A woman's got to do...
Pam,
Maybe we should trade truffle in for a horse.
Pawlie,
Was it good for you too, honey?
Reflective,
We already did. It's an idea whose time has come.
"A muicican's life is fraught with peril." LOL
So dramatic.
Love it.
Cats DO choose the worst places to puke in, dont they. He's right though, they are all (loveable) dickheads.
Well, my experience in feline barf regard is usually going out iinto the darkened hallway in the wee smalls when I first arise and stepping into the pool If you find an answer to the cat puke dilemma, please let me know. Othrwise, sympathies and empathies to Flip.
Ian
Note to Josie,
For two days, I have been unable to make comments on your blog, or even to scroll down. :(
An evil spirit is coming between us, but I wanted you to know, if you happen to see this, that I still care. :)
Rachel,
I have to agree, anyone who pukes on guitar equipment under cover of darkness just might be a dickhead.
Thanks for your visit!
Ian,
I see you're a veteran of these wars.
Stepping in it is the worst because then you have to wash your feet without turning on the bathroom light. (I try to keep myself in the dark as long as possible.)
It's interesting that you should talk about this today. We took both our cats to a low-cost clinic for shots, and they told us (like all the other vets) that the fat one has to eat a lot less and exercise more. The only real obstacle to this is that my cat gobbles down all her food when she gets smaller portions, and it ends up in the carpet.
Oh poor Flip and at 6 in the morning. I hope his day improved.
What is it with cats? They always find the really great rug to puke on, just inches from the hardwood floor. They give you that little look. It is as they are teasing you, just reminding you that of the decision they made -- rug over wooden floor, major mess over quick-clean-up mess. They are in control, after all.
Oh man, my heart goes out to Flip and, yes, to poor, sensitive Truffle tummy.
I try to be tolerant, but that sort of thing tries me sorely. I had a friend who kept a parrot in a cage. The bird developed projectile diarrhea. She felt sorry for it. I'd have wrung it's little neck with my own hands.
Yinyang,
Maybe all the cats of the world united and decided to barf today.
You may have to separate your cats at mealtime so the fat one won't eat the other one's food, too. This is not easy.
Claudia,
It could only go up from there, thanks.
David,
Cats are control freaks, actually. It's been said that dogs have owners while cats have staff.
Truffle's help was a bit disgruntled yesterday... long hours, poor pay, and never a good review.
Cs,
I think the parrot was trying to reach out because it was kept in a cage.
Parrots can't fly if their tail feathers are trimmed slightly, and make interesting and colorful pets as long as they're allowed some freedom.
Poor Flip! Cat food doesn't smell that appetizing to begin with, but slightly used catfood is worse. (poor Truffle, too; barfing is no fun.)
Velvet,
Canned cat food smells pretty much the same going in and coming out.
But then, so does most fast food, at least to me.
This is why I am neither a musician or a cat owner. I can't deal with the potential peril.
La Cubana,
You work at SF General, I think. Don't tell me you can't deal with peril.
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