Tag Archives: belly

Unbloated Bliss

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Get Off My Pillow!

Years ago after finishing his breakfast and dinner, Smudge used to burn around the house—fuelled with energy that sent his paws into hyperdrive. Now literally lighter after using his litter tray and leaving a lingering door, he races down the hallway and round the house in a state of euphoria.

Every morning he wakes me up for his breakfast constantly pawing my cheek, flicking his tail across my nose, or placing his backside in my face. I spring-up, then zombie-like feed him and stumble back to bed. Later he’ll return and snuggle next to me.

In contrast, it’s been awhile since he has slept on the bed all night because I snore. Or maybe it was when my belly was full of chicken, veggies and a big serve of Jerusalem Artichokes—a winter root vegetable—delicious when roasted.

Unfortunately, the later has a bad effect on me… After eating artichokes my belly swells up like a balloon, full of wind. It was that night Smudge leap on the bed and tried to snooze, but for hours I was burping and banging. In the morning, I wasn’t quite as bloated and he was still there. Apart from getting-up to have breakfast, Smudge remained curled-up like a snail shell for the rest of the day.

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Flat Belly.

Since the artichoke episode, Smudge hasn’t slept over. It’s an excellent deterrent for a cat-free zone, but an unpleasant experience.

However, it’s a way of getting him back for my daily torture.

The Human.

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A Step Behind

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Hogging the heater.

It was late and a winter’s night. As usual, Smudge lay sprawled across his rug hogging the heater, while from the couch my snores accompanied T.V. sounds. Suddenly, a thumping noise work me up.

Smudge must have gone to his water bowl, and now limped towards me, his right, front paw curled under. He tried extending his paw again, but quickly retracted it, dropping to his belly. I rushed to his side. Minutes later, he hadn’t advanced further. Smudge didn’t appear to be in constant pain, so I lifted him onto the couch and hoped that he would be okay.

The next day he was walking, but didn’t jump up on anything. I took Smudge to the vet who coaxed him out of the carrier with a few liver treats. The vet found that the big mog couldn’t move his right shoulder as high as the left one, then miraculously he could. Possibly, he had slept on his paw.

Back in the carrier, I lugged the fluff-ball to the car. ‘Expensive treats!’ I exclaimed.

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Photo shy, and a floppy belly.

Three days later he’s leaping like an acrobat and been snuggling on the bed. Smudge is now sprinting down the hallway as we play hide and seek. Recently, there was another toilet incident—a trail of droppings inside—even though the back door was open. See ‘Holding On’, February, 2017. Smudge’s excuse:  It was a frosty morning.

At almost 15, Smudge’s attitude and good looks defies his age, although his belly hangs low.