After the comedy routine with Tucker, I didn’t think that I’d have another so soon, or with Cammie, of all cats. But that’s what happened one morning late last week.
I was preparing to go to work. Cammie has been coming into the bathroom to look at the water dribbling from the tap and, periodically, to get a drink from it. She was finished with that chore and jumped down to the rim of the bathtub, over which I habitually drape the bathmat. That was when the action began.
Cammie started gagging, the usual hacking, choking sound of an impending vomit. When the other cats commence their little routine, I do one of two things. If I am too far away to affect matters, I let circumstances dictate the results. If near, I try to remove them from upholstery to hardwood or linoleum. I formerly attempted to do this no matter where I was. It merely led to the cats thinking that I was about to murder them for trying to toss a hairball; so much so, that if I do this now, they cower in fear. That’s not what I want. Besides, I often ended up causing them to run, and throw up as they go. Also not what I want.
But I was standing very close to Cammie, so I picked her up to remove her to the floor. My Siamese princess has come a long way in building her trust of people. She will allow me to pick her up without the hissing and growling that once accompanied the action. She still clearly dislikes being handled, and this is demonstrated in the immediate fixing of her claws in whatever material is directly beneath her. In this case, it was the bathmat.
On the bathmat was a small ceramic bowl, used to contain water and placed in the bathroom basin at night or when I am absent. It provides water for Tungsten, who may come up onto the counter to drink water from the basin. The bathmat now rose at the same speed as Cammie, while the little bowl went flying off at an angle. This distracted me, and Cammie dropped to the floor.
The Camster refused to move forward because not only was Tungsten in the bathroom, bent over the heating vent, but Kola had trotted to the door to see what the matter was. Turning after seeing the bowl break against the bottom of the tub, I didn’t notice that Cammie hadn’t budged, so my foot struck her in the bum. I imagine she thought I had kicked her and she ran out of the room, cursing all and sundry, to throw up on several of the steps down to the basement.
Though I was going to be late for work now, I wanted to make sure my princess was all right. She consented to let me spend some time petting her and, later that evening, was on my lap as usual, purring contentedly. Though she looks sad in these pictures, she was, in fact, happy in most of them. She doesn’t hold grudges and understands that things happen.
And I bought two replacement bowls, just in case things happen twice.