Recently a new laundry drier has been purchased and installed in the House of Chaos and The Mistress has happily been washing the dirty clothes and bedsheets. But washing them means one has to fold them up afterwards, and because there is a distinct lack of time in the Mistress’ schedule, ever since she resumed work on a part-time basis, said clean laundry has been piling up in the baskets and languishing in the Kitchen of Chaos.
Which attracted feline attention of course.
Bean Sidhe is the King of Clean Laundry. Whenever even the smallest pile of clean clothes can be spotted he’s on it. Literally. Never have I seen clean laundry undisturbed and always have I been forced to pat the clothes clean before folding them. Because kitty paws tend to accumulate dirt where-ever they venture, and Bean Sidhe’s even more so than normal. I have stated before that he is a regular filth-magnet, and doubtless you can now imagine the state of the clean laundry when the Bannster has had the chance to lounge on top of it.
Not content with soiling the top layer of clothes, no not this kitty, he has to “make his bed” repeatedly by turning and tossing the contents of the basket until it has been fuddled to his heart’s desire. With said filthy paws. Would it surprise you when I say that even though the pile of clothes may be 1,5 meters high, I would still find dirt on the bottom of the basket ? He’s a thorough one, Bannikins is.
The other feline denizens of the House of Chaos may want to sneak a quicky-nap whenever the Bannster isn’t hogging the pile but when several baskets are awaiting my tender attention they have a choice. Thus it is not uncommon to find Bean Sidhe proudly residing on top of one laundry basket, Hrimnir dozing with his usual über-cute charisma in another, and Loup-Garou splashed out over a third. The only cat not really interested in laundry naps is Zorro, but that is because he likes to have a nice squirmy human underneath -or rather around- his august self when sleeping. Laundry simply doesn’t… live. Zorro goes for power-naps. The power that allows a 4-kilo feline to force an 100-kilos simian to lie absolutely still lest he loses his toes. (Or worse. And Grumpy Man really really REALLY does NOT want to find out “worse”.)
But what makes clean laundry so irresistible to those of the feline kind ? I mean, it’s not as if the clean laundry still has our personal smells attached to it. Washing is supposed to make those smells go away, isn’t it ? And cats are supposed to like our dirty laundry because of our smell in it. I really don’t think they are that fond of the scent of Marseillean Soap, or whatever chemical concoction the dear laboratory workers of the soap factories have thrown together for our convenience and well-feeling. Chemicals are supposed to turn a cat off. Their sensitive little nosies are supposed to be so incredibly attuned to the cat’s well-being that they instantly scream “scatter” at the faintest chemical whiff. But that’s not what happens with the feline denizens of the House of Chaos !
They like soap. They like it so much they try to lick it of my wet legs when I get out of the shower. I strongly suspect that they would be lining up for a dollop of Marseillean Soap if they ever make the connection between that weird white plastic bottle and the machine that belches out the clean laundry that smells like it. So far they have restricted their furry selves to hopping onto the clean laundry and firmly planting themselves in it. They genuinely like the soft texture of the textiles, that’s for sure. And they would have thanked me for using the fabric softener if they knew what it was for. The only evidence for this is clear whenever I find one of my feline babies luxuriating in the laundry: rolling and squeezing and dabbing and whathaveyounot, before falling asleep with the most beatific expression on their furry little faces I’ve ever had the pleasure to observe.
Should I deprive them of this pleasure ? Is my quest for clean clothes so important as to take away from my furry babies this most sensuous of experiences ? I could merely hamper it… by lying covers of plastic bags on top of the laundry baskets. Cats like stuff that crackles when they move over it. The bags just make their experience more pleasant, and add the intellectual challenge of trying to find out how to remove the bag and install themselves on the good stuff below.
But sometimes they’re just too lazy. And that is when I triumph.
Only to find a cat in the basket where I was laying the folded clothes in.
Picture below: “See ? mm-mm I’m mm-mm cleanin’ mm-mm m’slf mm-mm k?”
There’s probably more comfortable environs on the Friday Ark, why not check it out ?