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This Week: The Russian Roulette That Is The Hair Ball

crazy cat lady picCreativecommons.org/Austin Kirk

I have a confession to make. My name is Vickie and I am a Crazy-Cat-Lady.

Every night I sleep on a tiny slither of my mattress because my cat, obviously, requires the rest of my bed. I have a framed photograph of my boobah-boy on my office desk. And there is more cat food in my kitchen cupboard than there is human food.

Yes, I admit it. When it comes to Cat-Lady-Craziness, I’m a few loops short of a Fruitloop.

The object of my affections? Dave the Cat, an astonishingly handsome marmalade tabby with the heart of a lion and a penchant for belly rubs.

This week Dave the Cat had a hair ball. On Tuesday morning. At 5am.

Yes, I awakened to – not the glorious call of birdsong – but the gut-retching, vomitous cough of a cat enthusiastically attempting to remove a hair ball from his gullet. A highly unusual noise, it’s quite similar to the sound a drunk makes in a back alley when he’s suffering from the adverse effects of too much cheap sherry.

It’s not a nice noise to wake up to. And your sleep-fogged brain barely has time to register what’s happening. Your sleep-fogged brain barely has time to remember that you did, in fact, purchase a brand new wool rug yesterday.

Yes, the rug of your dreams is now lying on your living room floor in front of your sofa.

It’s all turquoise and flowery. Perfect in every way; it’s the rug of your dreams. You’ve been searching the stores for it for months. You finally found it and it was love at first sight. You brought it home and placed it lovingly in front of your sofa, and both you and Dave the Cat spent the previous evening gazing upon its astounding beauty. Dave the Cat in particular bonded with its gentle, marshmallow-y warmth. He spend several hours stretching and rolling in its welcoming embrace, allowing this perfect piece of home decor to absorb his subtle, unique perfume, and know that it truly belongs to HIM.

Vickie... Wake up... The rug of your dreams is now lying on your living room floor in front of your sofa...

And Dave the Cat is just about to vomit a slimy, putrid hair ball onto it.

I spring out of bed and run into my living room, just in time to witness Dave the Cat shamelessly deposit a muculent, ghastly ball of hairy nastiness onto my soft, sumptuous, brand new rug.

It’s a little like a scene from The Exorcist.

Somewhat relieved by his actions, he looks me in the eye as if to say: “Why is your hair such a mess? Have you no shame woman?”, miaows in satisfaction, and returns - somewhat smugly - to my bed to stretch out for the rest of the night.

Having spent 20 minutes attempting to remove all evidence of Dave the Cat’s nauseous expulsion from my beloved new rug, I crawl back to my bed to sleep on my tiny slither of mattress. But only after I – as any self-respecting Crazy-Cat-Lady would – kiss Dave the Cat lovingly on the forehead.

Yes, when it comes to hair balls, it can be like a Russian roulette. It’s a precarious and hazardous business, that’s for sure. And when it comes to buying new home furnishings, it can be like walking on ice for cat-owners.

But do I really care? No, not really. As a self-proclaimed Crazy-Cat-Lady, I’m proud to say that I realize that there will be other rugs in this lifetime.

There will, however, only ever be one Dave the Cat.

 

 

 

 

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