It’s not that I hate you for puking.
It’s just that I hate that you puke.
Therefore, I kind of hate you for puking.
Nothing long term, of course, but when I’m in the middle of cleaning up your intestinal sewage, it’s kind of hard not to hate you. So, if you can stay away for the next hour or so, I will eventually get over it.
Also, just a word of advice… there is no need to mill about while you are puking. This is not a cocktail party where you are networking for a potential career boost. You are a cat. Who is puking. Try to stay in one place. Your vomit is already projected with such force from your heaving body that there is really no reason to wander from one place to the next. The entire length of the hallway does not need your insides strewn all over it. Really. It doesn’t. Trust me on this one.
Furthermore, I realize that with your long, luxurious fur, you probably need more brushing and regular doses of hairball medicine. The thing is… I have a life outside of caring for you. Or… at least that’s what I’m aiming for. So, if you could try a little harder to puke a little less, then I can try to brush and medicate you more often. Deal?
In addition, we really need to get to work on finding a surgeon who is willing to attach opposable thumbs to your paws. Such a procedure would really help me out. Think of all the time I could save not cleaning up your spewage? (Yes, yes. I know spewage is not a word. Again. You are a cat. Why do you even care?) And think of all the life skills you could gain by cleaning up your own mess. I think it’s a win-win situation.
In closing, I would like you to seriously consider my recommendations for more harmonious living. I look forward to hearing from you directly concerning these proposals.