So, my cat throws up in the kitchen and decides to just stare at me after doing so, as if to say,
“Come clean this filth, peasant.”
I groan and toss my head to the ceiling in frustration, having just sat down on the couch.
Before I can get up to clean the vomit, I hear vigorous chomping and slurping coming from the area. I peer over the couch to find my dog, licking her lips, looking back at me.
My cat sees what has happened and slinks by me, a look on her face that says,
“This isn’t over.”
Sometimes, the universe just takes care of itself.