The worst is when the cat hair mixes with the grandson's play dough. There's something almost obscene about the way it secretly binds the dough, and becomes visible when you pull it apart. Lucky for me, I only see it when I'm wearing my glasses.
For some reason the rabbit is taking his time getting around to moulting this spring. He's very efficient, though, once he gets started. It usually takes only two or three gentle patting and fur-pulling sessions (each producing a rabbit-sized pile of fluff on the carpet) and then he's ready to get back to work on one or other of his projects. And two or three weeks later I'll have stopped sneezing, so everybody's happy.
Murka est magnifique, n'st-ce pas? Thanks for that pic of Balanchine -- I've always loved everything I've read about him but have never actually seen a photo before.
You know, we could be collectively harvesting all this spare hair and using it to stuff mattresses or somethink. It's only because we're decadent something-or-others that we don't.
A Person of Knowledge once told me that what triggers a cat's moulting is not heat, but light hitting the retina; by which logic, a cat wearing a blindfold would retain all her fur regardless of the heat. This doesn't sound comfy.
Still Life With Cat is an all-purpose blog containing reflections on whatever is going on in the realms of literature, politics, media, music, dinner, gardening etc. Its original incarnation is Pavlov's Cat (2005-2008).
Read, Think, Write is about all things books and writing, and incorporates Australian Literature Diary (2005-2010) and Ask the Brontë Sisters (May-July 2007).
Blogs are by Kerryn Goldsworthy, a writer, critic and editor who lives and works in Adelaide, South Australia.
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12 comments:
Yes, we have tumbleweeds a-plenty here.
The worst is when the cat hair mixes with the grandson's play dough. There's something almost obscene about the way it secretly binds the dough, and becomes visible when you pull it apart.
Lucky for me, I only see it when I'm wearing my glasses.
I woke this morning convinced I had lost eyesight, smell and hearing - then I removed the mountain of cat moult from my pillow!
For some reason the rabbit is taking his time getting around to moulting this spring. He's very efficient, though, once he gets started. It usually takes only two or three gentle patting and fur-pulling sessions (each producing a rabbit-sized pile of fluff on the carpet) and then he's ready to get back to work on one or other of his projects. And two or three weeks later I'll have stopped sneezing, so everybody's happy.
... and all of it is such a tiny price for the enormous pleasure of their company, cats especially but rabbits included.
and Here is a gift - the photo is of ballet master George Balanchine's cat doing a Grande Jete
(it could already do Le Pas De Chat)
Murka est magnifique, n'st-ce pas? Thanks for that pic of Balanchine -- I've always loved everything I've read about him but have never actually seen a photo before.
I am glad you liked it.
A cat rarely disappoints.
I Can Haz Cheeseburger? should get a Nobel Prize for bringing joy to thousands.
That Charlie Parker blog is a treasure trove of wonderful stuff.
ChainedAndPerfumed is another similar blog.
'A cat rarely disappoints.'
True. Cats prefer to exasperate.
You know, we could be collectively harvesting all this spare hair and using it to stuff mattresses or somethink. It's only because we're decadent something-or-others that we don't.
A Person of Knowledge once told me that what triggers a cat's moulting is not heat, but light hitting the retina; by which logic, a cat wearing a blindfold would retain all her fur regardless of the heat. This doesn't sound comfy.
... and there's the springtime hacking up of furballs. Charming!
I am planning a bit of felting, but what to do with it? Cat hair scarf? hat? wrap?
Knit another cat, as my mum used to say.
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