This afternoon I was giving one of my three cats, Nosey Dots, a vigorous scratching on his very robust tummy.
He was throughly enjoying it and was wriggling all around, kicking up some tufts of fur.
Since I’m an exceptional multi-tasker, I happened to be on the phone at the time during this vigorous tummy scratching and right in mid-talk, a giant tuft wafted up and got sucked right into my cakehole.
And lodged in my throat.
My phone caller contemplated calling 9-1-1, as the crazy old cat lady on the line (me) was obviously being choked to death by her clowder.
After I regrouped enough to put my call on mute and continue coughing til I broke five ribs, that hair tuft was still lodged.
I’m not sure it’s ever came out, as I sit here I can still feel something bothering me in my froat.
So today? Marks the day I had a cat hairball in my very own throat. And that secures another nail in the coffin of my crazy cat ladyhood.