Background: One of our cats, Ruby, has thrown up a few times since arriving at our Alameda home. She isn't sick, she just eats too much for a cat of her size, she has a sensitive stomach, and she tends to rassle around with her brother right after eating. Put all this together and her body can't always handle its food-processing chores.
And so, Meli related the following story to me on the phone as I was driving to class this morning. Apparently she went into the bathroom after I left to brush her hair and found that Ruby had once again lost her breakfast. This time it wasn't a discrete puddle of partially digested dry food, but a widely scattered array of barely digested chicken chunks. As Meli started cleaning it up Pepe (Ruby's larger, possibly older, brother) discovered the scene and decided that chicken chunks were chicken chunks, regardless of where they were, where they came from, or whose stomach they had recently been in. I don't think I need to complete the image for you.
So Meli cleaned up the mess, all the while shooing away an increasingly irritated (and no doubt confused) Pepe. Maybe we should get him some vomit-flavored Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans.