One of the dubious pleasures of living next to a railway line is that occasionally you’ll get a freight train idling while it waits for god-only-knows-what. On still nights with the windows open you will inevitably wake up as it screams back in to life and moves off.
Last night was a still night with a freight train. Of course I woke up and once awake I made the mistake of wondering if I should get up and go to the loo. Of course once that thought enters your head you’re not getting any sleep until you do get up and go to the loo.
I dragged myself out of bed and shuffled through the house. My brain was in a deep sleep fog but it woke up pretty quickly when my foot landed fair and square on a cold mass of cat chuck-up in the kitchen. Of all the experiences one could hope for on the way to the loo in the middle of the night, stepping on regurgitated cat meat is not one of them.
Somehow even though my brain was busy dealing with ‘revulsion’ I managed to get it to concentrate on ‘cleaning’ even though all it really wanted was ‘sleep’. I wiped the mess, cleaned the floor, cleaned my foot and made it back to bed where I lay there trying to get the memory to go away.
This morning Thomas was no where to be found. I think he surfaced when I was under the shower and Rae let him out. Now that’s a cat with a strong sense of self preservation.