I felt a bit under the weather this weekend. I didn’t even feel much like tearing into my delicious diced chicken! My tummy was bothering me too much.
In fact, I felt so horrible that I had an accident on the upstairs landing, and had to have my bum wiped a little, which I found incredibly embarrassing. Softie cleaned me up as best she could, and then set about cleaning up the landing. The British One coddled me and carried me downstairs.
Then, as if to further add to my dilemma, as soon as the British One set me down, my tummy rumbled and I started to dry heave in the dining room. He grabbed some newspaper to put in front of me, but I couldn’t hold it and ended up retching up all over his hand. He wasn’t very happy about that, but I didn’t get scolded because they both knew I was not myself.
My humans fussed over me for the remainder of the evening, and I was spoiled for choice on whose lap to nap on. They watched a new sci-fi program called “Threshold” and I didn’t like the noise made by the strange, alien ship, so I went into the dining room and dozed on the rug until it was time for bed. Then I slept at the foot of their bed.
For the rest of the weekend, I curled up on the sofa with whichever of my humans was sitting down, and napped soundly on a nice, warm lap.