Clean up on Aisle 9!

Last night I had an experience, the likes of which I've never confronted.

Mind you, plenty of times in the last 10 years I've discovered kitty barf. For some reason she has a real love of barfing on the dining room rug. The hardest rug in the house to clean. Of course, it makes perfect sense that she barfs there. Why would she aim inches away and barf on the easily clean-upable wood floor? I digress.

Last night while sitting on the couch knitting, the feline wandered over to my knitting paraphernalia and started fruiting around a bit. She poked in bags, perhaps poked herself in the eye a few times with knitting needles and then wandered back out. Always in search of a good ball of yarn, I imagine she was somewhat disappointed not to find anything hanging out that she could consume in under 3 seconds and barf up several days later after meowing as only a cat with a serious tummy ache can meow. I digress again.

Anyway, she hopped up next to me on the couch and began to cough. Like she had some lint in her throat or something (dust balls in my house? I never!). I shooed her off the couch and once on the floor she coughed so hard she urped. All over the rug. The really, really expensive rug that she's never thrown up on before. I dropped the knitting mid-stitch and sprinted to the kitchen for paper towels. By the time I returned, she had eaten up half the barf.

GGGRRRROOOOSSSSSS. So wrong and wrong again.

The following few minutes involved my holding her back at arms length while trying to mop up the rest with my other hand, covered with paper towels. I got most of it up and then gave up, retreating to the kitchen and allowing her lick the rug for the next 30 minutes or so.

Truly, one of the more disgusting moments in my life thus far. Who eats barf? Eeech.