He was in some unknown location in the house, and it took me a second to pinpoint where.
Understand that every square inch of floor in Roseholme Cottage is hardwood, tile, or linoleum... except for a smallish, maybe six foot by four foot, oriental-type rug on the floor next to Bobbi's bed.
I went stumbling in that direction, half-asleep still, muttering "No, Huck! No! Not on the rug!"
He must have heard me galumphing his way, because he skedaddled down the hall to the office and proceeded to hork out a blob of hairball and other ick nearly the size of a golf ball.
It's really hard to get back into dreamland after that, and I'd been having a neato one about living on a cool space yacht like the Millennium Falcon.
.
