Visitors beware ! Ye who would enter the House of Chaos now and in the foreseeable future should be wary of the furry onslaught, the sneaky drifting will-‘o-the-wisps formerly known as pelt, the tufts’ terror… it’s close to springtime again and the feline denizens are moulting, shedding, prowling about in a cloud of fur.
A cat’s fur is his pride. He will go to great lengths in order to keep it in pristine order. Not for nothing does he spend more than half of his waking time grooming that magnificent cover nature has so generously endowed him with. Not for nothing has he been born with his own built-in brush, that spiky tongue of his, and a formidable set of combs, 16 claws to use with finicky precision. His lithe body is just made for all kinds of contortions which the kitty needs to perform if he is to keep his ears from growing green and the implant region of his caudal appendage from sprouting interesting lifeforms. The cat is fastidious in his appearance, but you have to admit it is worth the trouble. Ah, magnificence on paws…
But the splendour comes with a price. Everything in this mortal world decays and even the most lovely and strictly looked-after pelt will look tattered and bedraggled after some wear and tear. In order to keep this luxurious coat in prime condition one must regularly exchange the old matter for new glory. During Autumn the glossy cover is supplemented with extra down and a bit more of the covering hairs, in order to better withstand the rigours of winter, but in Spring the whole kaboodle has to come off and make way for new growth that will turn the feline into an even more spectacular specimen of the species Felix Sylvestris. (Actually it should be Felix Splendidis, but then I wasn’t that crazy 18th-century Swede who came up with all those weird Latin names…)
Right now I’m again brushing hairs off my keyboard. It wasn’t the first time today and I reckon it won’t be the last either. The stuff is just everywhere, and the worse is yet to come ! The Brothers have always been rather neat when it comes to their shedding: Loup-Garou somehow manages to keep most of his hair accumulating in The Nest, forcing the Mistress to change covers a tad more often, or elsewhere in the couch, which has a removable and washable cover for just that purpose, and Zorro for some reason never sheds much in the House of Chaos anyway. But enter The Kitten From Hell and everywhere you look there’s white and orange stuff floating about. Take a step and you find yourself in a white-orange cloud. Pick the mewling monster up and your shirt takes on a whole new colour-scheme if it wasn’t white-orange to begin with. Caress the little hulk and your hands have suddenly acquired a pelt of their own. I don’t even dare point a brush towards his general direction without donning a face-cover first. Did I mention I’m actually allergic to cats ?
Bean Sidhe, the proud offspring of a Maine Coon dam, does not sport the impressive long-maned coat and bushy tail of a full-blooded Maine Coon, but he sure packs a pelt. Touch him and you keep poking, trying to find a body underneath the fluff. Caress hm and you’re wondering how a fluff-ball like that can still find sensuous pleasure from your touch. There’s an enormous load of hair on that beastie and it all has to come off in the next 3 months. <SHUDDER> Fortunately the sun has lost his shyness and everytime the rain abates you will find our little dearheart outside terrorizing the denizens of the Garden of Chaos. When he’s out there he can’t shed in here, that’s a fact. And one welcomed with joy by the other denizens. The Brothers don’t like wallowing in the fur of another, certainly not licking up another’s hairs when they’re grooming themselves, and the simians are just plain happy there’s less of Bean Sidhe’s omnipresent fur to sneeze through. Did I mention Grumpy Man is allergic to cats too ?
And the fun is yet to come: Bouncing Psycho fishing fur from his coffee, the Mistress salvaging silky strands from the delicious dinners she’s preparing, Grumpy Man plucking pelt from his workshop machines. When Bean Sidhe enters full-moulting phase we’ll be ankle-deep in trouble and it’ll be from our own purring purrty tribble ! Can you imagine the onslaught ? Open the door of the House of Chaos and enter a cloud of white-orange down, sit down on the Couch of Chaos and try to find black-pelted Loup-Garou in the white-orange mess, accept a drink and enjoy the extra filter on top of it, tuck in the dinner and learn to fish for foodstuffs, pluff up your pillow and wonder why the filling is outside of it. Oh joy.
Yet the biggest ball of misery will be poor little Bean Sidhe himself. Imagine to try and catch up with millions of obnoxious hairs. Imagine grooming yourself and having to stop every 5 seconds in order to spit out the fur. Poor little Banninkins will suffer from hairballs even more than the Brothers if he tries to keep up with his appearance. Fortunately for my little Ban-Ban the Mistress has a full box of treats handy, treats especially designed to help him with the hair and hairballs. He loves them too the rascal, begging whenever he hears the rattle of a box. And don’t worry Bannikins… the brush is your ally and the broom is your friend.
Picture below: Zorro lovingly grooming the Mistress. It’s not that humans are wont to shed during Springtime, but you never know for sure…
The feline denizens of the House of Chaos will board The Friday Ark tomorrow for a leisurely cruise. Be sure to wave them off !!