priceless

jeff and i had a pre-4th barbecue dinner at my mom's tonight, and we just got home 10 minutes ago. just like every night, when we came home, smudge greeted us at the door (by trying to squeeze past us to go exploring) and then led us into the bedroom.  he always runs ahead of us and jumps up on the bed, spins around to make sure we're behind him, then flops down on his side and does the whole bunny-pose routine to get us to sit down and pay our respects. if we don't both devote a good ten minutes to reminding him how much we adore him, he gets all pissy.

tonight was no different. i went into the bedroom with smudge, and as he started wriggling on the bed to entice me, i kicked off my shoes and walked towards him. then my bare foot stepped on something cold, wet, and slimy.

i'm not proud of what happened next. "ew! what did i step in? jeff what is that? what is that? i stepped in it! i'm barefoot and i stepped in it!!!! I STEPPED IN IT!! WHAT IS IT? WHAT IS IT? WHAT IS THAT?!?!!!"

jeff, super nonchalant: "oh, he must have barfed up a furball. he was eating his fur last night." (when we brush him, he goes after the clumps of fur, even digging them out of the garbage, so he can eat them. if i'm the one who brushes him, i will make sure, UNLIKE SOME OTHER PEOPLE, that smudge does not get his paws on any stray tufts.)

while i was screaming and shrieking and generally freaking out, yelling at both the barfing cat and his permissive, enabling daddy, and the fact that he couldn't have done it on the white tile floors, he had to do it on the taupe carpet, ensuring it would not be easily seen or avoided, jeff just laughed. "you should have seen your face. priceless!" then, while i cleaned it up, he wandered off, giggling, "dinner at your mother-in-law: free. gas for the trip home: 45 cents. your wife stepping barefoot in your cat's fur-barf: priceless."