ACHIEVEMENT UNLOCKED: MID-AIR BARF

At long last, the devilishly illusive mid-air barf achievement is mine! Today marked a triumph in the annals of catdom as I unleashed my latest vomit from 3 feet in the air, buoyed to victory by the human as she picked me up in an attempt to prevent me from barfing in between the washer and dryer again.

There are several people I need to thank for this unprecedented accomplishment:
1. The female human, for giving me wings
2. The male human, who let me outside to masticate the grass for a while
3. God

Here is me atop the computer chair, contemplating my next barf:

Let me outside, I'm gonna baaaaaaaaaaarf!



(This picture put here for the benefit of those who do not want to see barf pictures in the post below. Though I assure you, they're not graphic. You sissies.)

WARNING: THIS POST CONTAINS BARF PICTURES

I have not disappeared!

In fact, I had been deeply and fervently planning my magnum opus, as it were... The crowning barf of this barfy life.

I have mentioned before how I like to barf as I leap from the windowsill onto the dryer and washer, so as to coat as many varied surfaces as possible. Well this time my well-planned efforts resulted in the human scrubbing the laundry room from top to bottom, including replacing the dryer hose.

Humans are so easy to trap that way. They start on one unpleasant task, and they're immediately sucked into other adjacent tasks until it becomes a whole "project." So while cleaning the barf, the human noticed it dribbled behind the dryer. She moved the dryer and noticed the barf-covered dryer hose, which was also full of holes. So off to Home Depot it was. While replacing the hose, she saw barf, dust, and cat toys all over the floor, so she moved both the dryer and washer and scrubbed the floor.

In short, thanks to me the laundry room was finally cleaned. You're welcome, Canada.

Here are the pictures of my handiwork, with dramatic red arrows to denote the areas barfed upon.

Puked three times today. Once upstairs, once downstairs, and once on a canvas bag of computer cables. The one downstairs was one of the largest piles of my long and illustrious career, and I still managed to follow it with two encores!

Stomach empty, morale high.

Today, the male human stroked my tummy and sang (to the tune of "Three Blind Mice"):

Soft bald tum,
Soft bald tum,
See how it barfs,
See how it barfs.

My little sister, as I have mentioned, is named Charlie. So sometimes the humans call us Chuck and Upchuck.

The humans think they are funny.

Now, you may think that I am entirely composed of barfs and sunshine, but there's much more to me than that.

I'm a Renaissance cat--I enjoy a wide variety of activities, such as eating grass, barfing, batting at my little sister from on top of the coffee table, lap sitting, barfing, looking pensively out the window, and barfing.

Eating grass is a personal favorite, though. The back lawn has become a veritable snack bar now that the grass has turned green. I stand at the back door and gesture dramatically towards the handle as soon as the humans get home (I am not yet tall enough to reach it). I have also perfected a "please let me into the backyard to eat the grass" call, which goes something like this: "Brooooowr."

Not only does grass affect my delicate taste buds in a pleasing manner, but it is a convenient way of dislodging unpleasant stomach contents.

Oh, maybe I am composed entirely of barfs and sunshine.

Barfed today, but I kept it simple. Just a small pile in the laundry room--ample punishment for my human having put my collar back on now that it's springtime and I'm going outside to chew the grass.

The humans had butternut squash ravioli and I tried to lick the butter out of their bowls, but they shooed me away. I cuddled them while they watched Tangled, anyway. I like movies.

One of my favorite methods for making a barf epic is to run while barfing. This gives the humans an enticing mystery to unravel: At what point did she start heaving? What was her footpath in comparison to the barf trajectory? Was it one barf or multiple barfs in quick succession?

One of my favorite places to create this game for them is on the windowsill above the dryer. As soon as I feel my innards churning, I affect a modest leap from the windowsill onto the dryer, from the dryer to the washer, and then finally to the linoleum floor below. If I time it right, I can distribute my regurgitated lunch evenly between windowsill (with a little down the wall), dryer (on top as well as down the side), and washer (sometimes even a little bit INTO the washer).

The humans emit a collective groan upon surveying the damage, but I can tell by the questions they ask that they secretly enjoy the detective work. ("Was she RUNNING?" "How did she get barf INSIDE the washing machine when it was closed?")


Here is a picture of me not barfing:

Today, I would like to take a moment to reflect on one of my favorite barfs.

My humans had gone on vacation to some southern tropical paradise. They had the unmitigated temerity to leave me and my little sister at home, alone all day save for short visits from our grandparents (who thankfully resupplied our food and water dishes).

This obsession the humans have with abandoning their houses to visit distant lands is beyond me. It's absurd.

So I, of course, realizing that they needed to be taught a valuable lesson, unleashed one of the most epic barfs of my long and prosperous career. I tossed my cat cookies while sitting on the top of one of the human's computer chairs. Not only that, but I pivoted mid-barf so as to coat BOTH sides of the chair.

My vomitous trophy plunged downward from the top of the chair and into the little vinyl crevices where the chair's arms are screwed into the body, and then continued south to leave some nice spots on the carpet. The humans haven't gone on vacation since.

Hi, I'm Bella. And no, I was not named after the girl from Twilight.

I'm an 11-year-old torbie (tabby + tortoiseshell), and I barf. A lot.

I barf on the floor, I barf on the carpet, I barf on the windowsill, the couch, and, most recently--into my human's expensive, genuine leather moccasins.

I have an annoying little sister named Charlie who torments me to no end.

I barf to feel ALIVE.