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.