The Grey Tornado

It was a normal morning. My head was still fuzzy from sleep, and since I’m not a coffee drinker it wasn’t going to clear up anytime soon. I was brushing my teeth in slow motion,  as if that would prevent a gob of toothpaste from falling off the brush and slithering down my pajama top like a foam avalanche. I hate that.

You know what I mean, don’t you? Even though you wipe it off a white smear eventually appears and wears like a badge of shame. “I’m an adult who still hasn’t mastered the skill of keeping toothpaste on the brush or in my mouth,” it screams. And why is it the gob loves a dark top? I rarely leave a gob on a light colored top where it wouldn’t show. Nope, the toothpaste sticks like glue to the brush on those days. Just saying.

As I stared at myself in the mirror, willing my mouth to behave as the brush wandered around all my teeth, I heard the thunder of Pudgy’s feet running up the stairs towards our bedroom.  I heard the sound of her landing on our bed, and then hitting the floor once again.  I heard the scratchy sounds of her sliding across the tile of the bathroom floor. Then I heard her racing back down the stairs and into the living room. I never once actually saw her; she was that fast, and that crazy.

When I looked down at my feet I notice both rugs in the bathroom were now jumbled heaps. In her slide across the floor she’d used the rugs to slow her turning momentum, and for additional traction before heading out the door. I felt as if a grey tornado had hit the room and then moved on while I stood with mouth agape and spittle dripping.

Poking my head out the bathroom door I saw Pudgy looking up at me from a lazy-lounge-position in the living room. She wasn’t even breathing hard. “What?” was her expression. I just shook my head and backed away from the door.

Having a demon-possessed cat and not slobbering on my shirt…double score! It was the best part of my day.