With the longer days of spring, my fursibs and I have been shedding up a storm. More shedding means more grooming and more grooming means - you guessed it - more hairballs, for sure. The peeps try their best to comb and brush us more often but still, in this here multi-cat household, there seems to be at least one horked-up hairball or two, every week. MOUSES!
Of course, it doesn't help that a couple of us don't like being groomed by the peeps. Tess tolerates it for like... fifteen seconds, twenty at most. After that, she starts complaining with growls. And Mason likes only
certain parts of her to be groomed. Top of her head, yes. Most of her back is a go, too. But the rest of her is off-limits. Touch her tummy and you've got the bunny kicking going on, for sure.
Tobias, on the other paw, would
like nothing more than for the peeps to lickka-da-top-o-her-head but so far, she has been out of luck on that front. Peeps say lickin' the tops of cats' heads is not on their agendas but that doesn't stop my sister. Toby keeps on asking. So far, the best she has been able to do is get our sister, Constance, to groom her which, of course, means more hairballs for Connie. MOUSES!
No, when it comes to peeps, they
will groom you but only by using combs and brushes and stuff. What's up with that?
MOUSES!
I must admit that I've had a few hairballs, myself, in my time. To limit my horking, I've found two things that help. One is getting Peep #1 to comb me more often which I do actually like. But as I probably shed more than anyone else in the house, peeps included, I've found that Peep #1 has a difficult time keeping up. This is why, I have developed a second strategy which, so far, has proven quite useful, for sure.
I have found that the rolling about on laundry allows me to release copious amounts of ginger-coloured fur from my wonderful self, onto said laundry, allowing the peep to get rid of this excess fur by doing more laundry. Now it's very important that the laundry be
clean for if you roll around on dirty laundry, goodness knows what you might get all over your fur. So far this has worked out quite nicely and the peep must be in agreement for the more fur I release upon her laundry, the more laundry she cleans. MOUSES!
Once, way back when, I had the most wonderful roll-about on Peep #1's black jacket and then afterwards, an afternoon nap. Oddly enough, when Peep #1 discovered her new and improved black with ginger accents jacket, the jacket was hung up out of reach. Being a peep, she hung it up in a closet. Why-oh-why she didn't hang it on a wall, putting it on display for all to see, is absolutely unfathomable, for sure.
Always remembering that
new and improved black with ginger accents jacket, I
still, to this day, try to seek out black clothing upon which I can roll around and nap and release my excess fur. And Peep #1 must have appreciated my handiwork for she continues to leave the odd black clothing item out for my use.
But no matter how much excess fur I release upon newly laundered clothes, there's still a hairball to be horked up every now and then.
You know, when it comes to getting peeps up and moving, nothing - and I mean NOTHING - gets 'em moving faster than the sound of a kitty horking up a hairball. Believe me, I know. MOUSES!
Moments after one makes the early stages of that distinctive horking sound, peeps come a-running from all parts around.
One moment you're just starting to hork and the next, there's a peep hovering over you which, I can assure you, is somewhat disconcerting, at best. Sometimes a kitty likes a little privacy for horking, you know? MOUSES!
This is why, of course, I now do my best to release all hairballs at night, under the cover of darkness, when peeps are fast asleep. But being an
ever-obliging kitty who knows that his peeps have a weird and unnatural interest in my horking up of hairballs, I try very hard to deposit all hairballs where they'll be easily found: like on a bed, on the floor next to a bed, or in the middle of a hallway in a high-traffic area. MOUSES!
And the peeps must appreciate my thoughtfulness for when one is lucky enough to find a horked-up hairball in the middle of the night, they always squeal with delight.
Okay, maybe not
with delight but they do squeal, and that, my friends, is for sure.
MOUSES!
