Something’s up with Jack

That’s not cat hair all over my comforter. It’s just a fancy comforter made of expensive fur from endangered animals.

I woke up this morning to find a lovely grapefruit-sized splatter of cat puke on my beloved brown and darker brown hallway rug (the one KHall and Jimmy gave Phil and me as a going-away present when we moved to Memphis). It was thick and chunky like clam chowder and I decided quickly not to bother cleaning it out of the rug, which is of the shag persuasion. I mean, that rug has had a good go of it and is filthy and urine-stained and full of ferret smells. But there’s no way I can possibly clean cat puke out of it. I don’t have my own washer and dryer and therefore don’t feel comfortable putting my cat’s puke in a communal device, even for $1.50.

Anyway, I wouldn’t normally be worried about a little cat pukage (I know it’s normal, but I had entirely dodged the cat-puke bullet until now), but I witnessed Jack heave three more times in the early afternoon — all gooky foodstuff puke and not mucusy hairball puke — and then came home in the late evening to some crusty semi-fresh food puke in my bedroom (and on my shorts), and then just now I watched as he horked up still more internal goodness (this time a little less chunky with food and a little more watery, because I didn’t feed him at his usual time because of this puking problem we’re having).

What makes me worry is this: I found a little pen cap-sized bit of rubber in one of the puke pools. It’s rubber from my rubber computer-chair mat, the one he has taken to chewing lately. I knew he was chewing on it but I never imagined he would actually swallow the bits. I give him too much credit, I know.

So I’m worried that he’s got a bunch of rubber nonsense floating around in his belly that’s going to require surgery to remove. I’m not sure what else could be making him puke up his food so suddenly and so often. This is not a hairball issue. This puke is for real.

Obviously we’re going to the vet tomorrow.