Wednesday, December 31, 2008

Vomit Stories (you've been warned)

In 1979 I was driving a taxicab in Chicago, and I got a call for a fare at Henrotin Hospital. As I drove up to the emergency entrance, a hospital employee was waiting with a man in a wheelchair. As soon as I stopped he whipped the door open and pushed the guy out of the chair and into my backseat, then he came around, handed me a charge slip and an address, and quickly disappeared into the emergency room. (Back in those days the cab company allowed hospitals to charge cab rides, and I would cash them in later.) As I pulled away from the hospital there was the unmistakable sound of puking coming from the back seat. After emptying the contents of his stomach, the guy continued to dry heave, filling the cab with the aroma of gastric juices and 'Richard's Wild Irish Rose'. It turned out that the hospital was dumping the guy on a rehab center nearby. When I pulled up to the center, the rehab employee handed me a roll of paper towels and took the guy away. Obviously they had done this before.

Lately, Fat Kitty has fallen in love with my head. Every night after I fall asleep, she nestles up against my head and falls into a blissful slumber. Very often, before she falls asleep, she grooms me by licking my hair until it is sopping wet. It's very creepy. All this just started in the past month and I don't know how to break her of it without incurring a bit of resentment on her part. I have two good reasons for her to stop besides the creepiness of it. First of all are my allergies. I wake up every morning with my eyes puffed out like a blowfish, and with fits of sneezing. The second reason is because of what happened last night. I awoke to the sound of Fat Kitty doing the ‘kitty-cat about to barf’ dance on my head. I did manage to get her off of my head, but I did not get her far enough as she spewed forth into my shoes on the side of the bed. It has happened before, and I cannot understand why when a cat is about to puke, they always look for a hard to clean area to do it in. With all the tile and terrazzo floors in the house, she always aims for the rugs, shoes, Mark, or me.

By the way, back in 1979, I charged the hospital for the time it took me to clean the vomit out of my taxi. Unfortunately, Fat Kitty doesn’t have a charge card or I would make her pay. I guess she’ll just have to make it up shampooing my hair til it's paid off.


  1. I am immediately attracted to this story. Please tell me first how you stopped from throwing up and continued to drive the cab-I can't even stay in a lane properly when a disco song come on the radio. Next...I see you kitty story and raise you a lab story: Simon the black lab went outside and came back in with a half eaten rite-aid bag of cat pop I had scooped just hours before. I was able to yell-drop-drop- while gagging and pull the half eaten bag out until it snagged on his canines and scattered litter and poop all over the kitchen floor. Many martinis later I am able to retell the story here. Have a sh*t-free New Years, Alan. Mark...treat him well...he has been through much.

  2. Chandler is also a connoisseur of kitty poop. He has come bounding into the bedroom all happy and ready to give kisses, with his face smeared with kitty litter. I can tell immediately when he has been in the kitty litter by his foul breath. By the way Rite-aid bags are probably too flimsy. I use one of Mark's many shopping bags.

  3. What? No color or texture of the vomit in your blog. We want TMI !!!

  4. I am beginning to think I will become an animal-free zone.