Cat got your tongue?

My poor little Nette has been vomiting incessantly for two days now. She’s not moping around, though, and her puke is basically water. But clearly something is wrong with her.

But worse, I have to wipe it up every hour, or throw her our of my bedroom the moment she starts to gag.

Which in turn makes me gag. Especially when I discover that she’s puked on the bathroom floor, just as I’m brushing my tongue. (I’ve been known to gag on my toothbrush a time or two.)

So this morning, I happened to get up and decide that I wanted to go to church. I laid in bed until the last possible moment, though, and then frantically got ready in 5 minutes. I was trying to multi-task by brushing my teeth at the same time as I was looking for my shoes. And what did I come upon? Another pool of cat vomit. I just about had to run for the toilet. Ick.

Despite this minor (yet horrifying) setback, I made it to church via taxi with a few minutes to spare before the procession of robed folks began. Then we sang. We stood up. We recited. And then came the sermon.

You should know that the main pastor has been on sabbatical for a few months, so the assistant pastor was presiding.

And when she went to give the sermon, she realized she didn’t have her manuscript.

Seriously, the woman was engulfed in panic. She decided to pray for help. A search party of two members of the congregation flew to the front of the church and through the exit doors toward her office. The pastor told us that this was her worst nightmare — one that she’d been fearing for 15 years.

I had to sit there and ask myself how it was possible for her to have 15 years of experience in preaching, yet freak out so much without her manuscript?  Personally, I think she did a better job in the first three minutes without it than she did by reading the rest of it.

But clearly the cat had her tongue. Or more likely, it was holding her confidence hostage.


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