Divine Justice

Ms. Maya Nator, the deaf white cat of the family, sheds prodigiously. She also likes to sleep stuffed right between us, preferably with some part of her body shoved into one human's mouth, while the other person is blessed with at least one foot draped over her shoulder (sing ditty called "The Foot of Love" to the tune of Bacharach's "The Look of Love" here).

Anyway, what with all this very cute, very dangerous and very furry cat ass all up on us every night, many's the time Mrs. Nator and I hack on white hairs, pick them from out of our teeth, nose, underwear, you name it. But we put up with it in the same way many folks put up with their toddlers sleeping with them and drooling all over. (Sing "What I Did for Love" here.)

Still, it gave me great satisfaction when, after responding to the infamous "ork-ork-ORK-GUCCCH!" sound of cat hacking, I found a lovely, large slimey whitish hair ball on the floor. Why the satisfaction, you may ask?

It was liberally tangled with long, curly, red Mrs. Nator hairs.

 

Incidentally, if my death certificate contains the word trichobezoar, do not be surprised.