Our cat Missy has a fetish for plastic. Specifically, she likes to find the plastic, eat it, and then produce it again to let us know that she ate it earlier, along with some of her regular cat food. We don't know why she does it, or what specifically about plastic, which she is compelled to eat, makes it so much more tasty than, say, canned tuna, which she will not eat and will actually huff at if you open a can for her. Never in my life have I met a cat who didn't go completely ga-ga over canned tuna.
So the other day, I start hearing that familiar gulck gulck sound - just say the word gulck repeatedly out loud, and you'll know what it sounds like - and I start running to the chair where Missy is, ready to produce her half-digested ball of plastic and cat food. I'm frantically looking for something disposable to catch the kitty puke, because once that gulck sound starts, you have a 3-5 second window before the goo comes out of her mouth (and onto the furniture, the carpet, etc.). I'm just about to put an old blanket under her mouth when out comes Jason's cupped hands, directly under her nose, and he catches the kitty barf. With his bare hands. He did it again about 10 seconds later, too. I tell you, people, that is dedication. Fast forward however many months/years, and that is a dad unafraid of any kid's upset stomach ("do it in Daddy's hand, okay? In Daddy's hand.") Even I was unwilling to sacrifice the purity of my hands to the Barf Goddess, and heck, that's what I'm getting a degree in.
It's really touching though. In a weird, slightly gross sort of way.
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