Cat Fur

Cat fur…can’t live with it, can’t live without it….

It’s all over everything in my apartment…it’s a phenomena as endless as a Tolstoy novel. The fur attached to the cats is fine, but the detached bits of fluff and stuff are the nightmare-on-elm-street for those of us who don’t like housecleaning.

So here I am at the laundrymat again…washing t-shirts that might have each lasted for an extra day of wear but for the furry gift that keeps on giving.

As I loaded up my laundry basket with two huge loads of darks this afternoon, two little black furry goblins were swirling about my feet investigating my separation process as well as slowing it down. I remarked to them, “You are sooooo lucky to have self-cleaning outerwear.”

Of course, this was unintelligible to them, but somewhere in the depths of their amazing, unfathomable minds, I think they already know it.

Cats basically accept things as they are and then work around the details. I can moan and groan about cat fur on my clothing, my furniture, my blankets, carpet and bathroom sink, BUT…the fact of cat fur is never going to go away as long as I choose to have feline companions.

So accept it I must…accept it all: the lint rollers, the extra supply of quarters, the peculiar obsession of one family member who needs to drink water from the tap instead of the bowls, my fur-covered lap, the one set of sweats and/or shorts for home and the other set for going out.

And the cats simply accept their good fortune: their sandpapery pink tongues, their all-weather fur, the food that magically appears in the bowl every day, the litter box that gets sifted EVERY evening, the laps that appear out of nowhere.

Their little faces always look tragically stricken when they notice that I’m getting ready to go out…but their faith in me is always rewarded with pats and gooey talk upon my return.

I am rewarded as well…with purrs and cuddling and a thorough inspection of whatever I have happened to bring through the door with me.

So I continue to rush to my bedroom when I get home so that I can change my clothes before the fur can apply itself to my “sunday-go-to-meeting” wardrobe.

I have faith that there will always be enough quarters….

©February 2011 by Phyllis J. Hanniver

Posted with WordPress for BlackBerry.

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About pjh95811

I am a writer and poet living in California. I love cats, dogs, nature, poetry, spirituality and the Pacific Ocean.
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