It’s Saturday night, It’s late. I’m absolutely hooked on Line of Duty, been watching it all day. I half wonder if I could squeeze in another episode before bed? Nope not going to happen, I can barely keep my eyes open as it is.
On the sofa beside me are both cats who have both been surprisingly good and quiet all night. A perfect Saturday night in.
I get myself ready for bed, give the cats their suppers (necessity or I will only get two hours sleep) I go into the bedroom, pick up the fur magic brush to quickly brush down the bed before I crawl into it for the night, looking forward to snuggling in my new duvet and new bedding. I switch on the lamp……….
F**K, F**K, F**K
Waiting for me in the middle of the bed is a big pile of puke, as I scan round I find another pile and oh fuck a duck how the hell is it all up the wall too.
“CYMMI when I get my hands on you cat” I shout.
I know it was Cymmi, this is his trademark, too lazy to get up and off of whatever he is sleeping on.
“You f**king, b**t**d, where are you”
I’m furious at him, not only for doing it on all the new bedding, but he clearly did it hours ago as it’s all dried in. Neither him or Starla bothered to tell me.
He knows, as when I walk into the living room he runs, I chase him.
“Come here you little twat” I’m still shouting at him. “You are banned, banned from the bedroom cat for good you hear me”
As I return to my messy fate I begin cleaning up the lovely piles, wiping down the wall. To which half of the paint came with it. Strip the bedding, rinse it out in the shower, attempt to rinse out the “washable” duvet. Which is now acting like a sponge soaking in every bit of water.
I dig out the spare duvet and chuck another clean duvet cover on it. This whole process has taken the best part of an hour.
Finally, finally I’m ready to climb into bed. The cats are both banned so are spending the night in the living room. I’m not heartless I did put extra fleecy throws in there for them. Let Phoenix out for another wee. It’s raining out, she comes in, straight on the bed. Muddy paw prints everywhere. As I finally pull the duvet back I spot something on the bed, it’s small, slimy and oh crap its moving. That’s it Phoenix has brought a tiny slug in with her. Slug removed all the while treading on bloody cat litter that’s just appeared and I am ready to at last climb into my muddy, wet dog smelling, slug ridden bed.
Oh the joys of fur babies. Of course both cats were also on the bed.
The next day both the duvet and bedding were properly washed and survived. Cymmi of course was not ill, had he been ill I would never have told him off, it was just a furball causing him to vomit.