Maxine Has Left The Building

Remember last summer when we had to put my cat, Boo Boo, to sleep and I was super sad face about it and it totally sucked? Yeah, I had to do it again in November.

After Boo died, my other cat went downhill fast. My Maxine. She was my baby. I adopted her when she was a kitten. I was fresh out of college and had just gotten my first grown up job and rented my first apartment. She was the runt of a litter of farm cats and I could not resist her. She saw me through a lot of difficult times: A broken engagement one month before the wedding, a move to another state where I knew no one, the death of grandparents, the adjustment to married life and a ready-made family.

She was special, is what I'm trying to say.

She was also extremely awful. She peed on the carpet. A lot. So much that the Captain and I had to have it ripped out and replaced with hardwood. She was grumpy. She hated most everyone but me, but insisted on sitting right in their faces in order to fool them into thinking she liked them so she could bite them when they tried to pet her. She chewed up all the ribbons on Christmas presents and then pooped them out for months afterwards. She puked EVERYWHERE.

But I loved her so much.

So when Boo died and she began wandering around the house crying pitifully for hours and then began to eat less, the Captain knew what was coming. I kept myself in denial. Sure, she was 15 years old and was obviously in mourning for Boo. But she would come out of it. I just knew it.

Still, when no one was looking, I would whisper in her ear "Please don't die on me. Not now. Please. I need another year first. I can't take it right now." And Max would look right at my face and it seemed like she understood.

And maybe she did, but she just couldn't do it. Soon it became obvious to even me that she was sick. She was drinking large amounts of water and urinating constantly. Exactly what Boo did at the end. So we took her to the vet and got the same diagnosis when we took Boo. Diabetes.

That was on a Monday. We told the vet we were taking the week to decide if we wanted to treat her or put her down. By Friday, Max had made the decision for me. She could barely walk. She spent hours sitting in front of her water bowl with her head hanging in it. She had lost so much weight in a 5 day period that you could see her hip bones jutting out.

I took the weekend to say goodbye. I held her on my shoulder the way she always loved. She would purr and sleep while I walked around the house talking softly to her for hours. I cried a lot. I had moments when I thought maybe she'd get better, but by Sunday morning I knew it was time.

Max and me in healthier times

So on Monday, almost exactly four months from when Boo died, we took her to the vet. I couldn't bring myself to do it with Boo, but I knew I had to be there for Max. I was her person, her favorite. I couldn't leave her alone at the end.

It was hard. It was probably one of the hardest things I've ever had to do so far in my life. Even now, months later, I still think about those last few minutes. I hate that she was terrified and hurting and I could do nothing but talk to her and tell her I loved her until she was gone.

But it was fast. Just like everyone says, it was over in seconds. One second she was there, staring at my face, and the next she was gone. I was somehow able to not cry until she died, because I didn't want her to see me upset. So at the very end of her life, I was the last face Max saw and my voice was the last she heard. And that brings me comfort every time I think about her.

I got to spend awhile with her afterwards, but it was so hard to walk out without her. The Captain, who had been there with me the whole time, held my hand and took me home. I went straight to bed for the rest of the day.

And I miss her still. I know some people will read this and roll their eyes and say "It was just a cat, not a person". And that is okay, I don't expect everyone to understand. I know it's not the same thing. I've lost family members, I know that pain. This is a different kind of pain, but still just as real. Max was my buddy for 15 years, my entire adult life up until this point, and I will always miss her.

Love you, old lady.

Goodbye To My Boo Boo

So last week was really rough. Not to get all frowny and poor me on you guys, but here’s what happened.

My dad wound up in the emergency room with a very painful colon problem.
The brakes went out in my car and I was almost killed running a red light.
We had to put my sweet old Boo kitty to sleep.

That right there is a trifecta of fucked up.

So not fair that all that happened in a 5 day period. It was so bad that on Friday at work, I laid my head down on my desk and yelled out “Jesus take the wheel!” in desperation. It got a good laugh in the office, but I kind of meant it. I mean, how much can one girl take? Way to be an asshole, universe.

It seems like animal death has been hovering near me for a year now. My in-laws lost their beloved dog last year. Then a close friend lost their dog. Then a month ago, two friends from work had to put down their pets. And every time someone lost an animal, I would get scared. Because both of my cats are old. It won’t be long before it’s your turn, my mind would say.

And then? It was my turn. Boo got sick this spring, diagnosed with diabetes and maybe cancer. He went downhill fast and we knew he wasn’t going to make it through the summer. But I don’t care how prepared you think you are…when you love someone or something, you are never ready for the end.

When it became clear that the best thing for Boo was to give him peace from his illness, I told Captain Carl that I couldn’t take him to the vet. I just couldn’t do it. He understood and told me not to worry, he could handle it just fine. He is not as attached to our pets as I am and he had been much more logical about Boo’s condition than I had been. Meaning he didn’t wail and cry and hug the cat super tight and whisper in his ear that “you are the best cat on the face of the earth and you WILL NOT DIE on me, okay?”. Like I did.

So it was a complete shock to both of us when Boo’s Friday afternoon appointment with kitty heaven arrived and the Captain completely fell apart. Luckily, my sister went with him so he wouldn’t have to be alone. Unluckily, she also fell apart. The two most solid people in my life were reduced to blubbering messes in the exam room when the moment of truth arrived. They told me that night over double vodka sours how it was better I wasn’t there. How they both wanted to tell the vet it was a mistake and take Boo back home. How Boo was sweet right up to the end. How he seemed to understand what was happening and was okay with it. How he went quickly and peacefully. And how after Boo was gone, the Captain stayed with him for 10 minutes, talking to him and rubbing his belly because he was afraid the poison hadn’t really worked and Boo would wake up and be scared.

It killed me. It killed me that I wasn’t strong enough to be there. That I instead had the luxury of saying goodbye to Boo at home, where he was comfortable and not being injected with something to make his heart stop. That because of my weakness, the Captain had to do it without me.

I lost my little buddy and I am heartbroken. But my dad is recovering slowly from a bacterial infection and the Captain is doing just fine and fixing the brakes on my car and life goes on. There are good things happening in my life. The sadness will eventually become a dull ache instead of a sharp one. And someday I’ll be able to look at Boo’s picture and not cry, but instead smile and remember how much he loved boxes and catnip, how he could catch flies in mid-air, how his back leg would scratch at the air when I rubbed his ears, how pink his nose got when he was excited, how good natured he was…how much we loved him.

And just to end all this sad stuff in a nice way, I decided to link to some old blog posts about my old Boo.

National Cat Puke Day
Captain Carl's World Of Fur
Happy Cat Dingleberry Day
Adventures In Pet Photography
Boo Sounds Like Antonio Banderas

And here's the last video I took of Boo from the night before he went to kitty heaven. Ignore my giant man hands...

Bye Bye To My Boo Boo

Love you, buddy.

The Secret To Getting Your Husband To Vacuum? Cat Poop.

Me: *picks up office phone* Hello?

Him: Open your email.

Me: Ummm, okay…..what did you send me?

Him: Just read it.

Me: *reading* “Your cat is growling in her sleep”. Oh look, a picture!

Him: Its hard to tell, but she’s doing that creepy inner-eylid-half-open-sleeping thing. I hate that thing. And she was growling.

Me: Awwww, sleep growling! Cute!!

Him: Yeah well, you’re cute cat left a skid mark on the living room rug this morning.

Me: It’s not a skid mark, it’s vomit. I heard one of them puking this morning but I couldn’t find it before I left for work.

Him: Oh there was puke. On the right side of the rug. On the left side there's a giant skid mark.

Me: Oooh, that’s not good.

Him: No. No it’s not.

Me: Did you clean it up?

Him: I picked up the clump because I thought it was puke.

Me: And?

Him: It was not puke.

Me: But did you scrub the rug after?

Him: We’re out of carpet cleaner.

Me: So? You don’t need carpet cleaner. Just get one of the old rags wet with hot, soapy water and scrub it.

Him: I said we’re out of carpet cleaner!

Me: You don’t need carpet cleaner!

Him: Yes I do! I can’t use the plastic scrub brush with the long handle if I don’t have carpet cleaner to squirt on the rug.

Me: Oh come on, you big baby.

Him: I am not putting my hands anywhere near a cat poop skid mark!

Me: I don’t understand how you can clean up the kids vomit without gagging once, but you can’t even scrub up a little cat poop.

Him: Because cats are nasty.

Me: You could use gloves. I have those yellow ones in the laundry room.

Him: Not happening.

Me: Well did you at least clean up the hairball?

Him: I picked up most of it but left whatever was soaking into the rug.

Me: Seriously???

Him: What part of “we’re out of carpet cleaner” do you not understand?

Me: So you're telling me you won't scrub the rug for me.

Him: No carpet cleaner, no scrubbing.

Me: Fine. If I clean it up, will you at least vacuum afterwards?

Him: I will vacuum all the rugs every time if it means I never have to clean up cat poop or puke ever again.

....oh how I love cat poop!

National Cat Puke Day

Captain Carl loves my cats. But he spends a lot of time pretending that he hates them.

Anyone Who Has Ever Visited Our House: Thanks for having us over!
Captain Carl: It was great! Don’t forget to take your free cat on the way out.
Visitor: What?
Captain Carl: It's your parting gift.
Me: No.
Captain Carl: Yep, pick whichever one you want. We have several to choose from.
Me: We only have two and no.
Captain Carl: We have white and black. The white one is cute but dumb. The black one will probably try to kill you in your sleep.


Captain Carl’s Mom on the phone: When are y’all coming to see us again?
Captain Carl: We’ll be there tomorrow. But just to drop off the cats.
Mom: What?
Captain Carl: You know. So they can live with you and not me.
Mom: I don’t think your wife will let you do that.
Captain Carl: Don’t worry about that…I’ll tell her we’re taking them to a kitty spa. She won’t know until it’s too late.
Me: I’m sitting right here, asshole.
Captain Carl: Abort mission! Enemy has infiltrated base camp! Whoop whoop!


Renty: Well, I’m heading to the pool.
Captain Carl: Don’t forget to let the cats out.
Me: No. The cats don’t ever go out.
Captain Carl: Sure they do. You just forgot.
Me: No.
Captain Carl: Look at them! All sad and shit because they want to go outside.
Me: They are indoor cats. They don’t have any claws or survival skills.
Captain Carl: Even better!
Me: No!
Captain Carl: *looking at Renty* I will lower your rent by $100 if you let the cats out.
Renty: Uhhh, ha ha haaa...
Me: *points at Captain Carl* Don't make me hurt you.
Captain Carl: Who let the cats out? Who who who who!


Me: I’m leaving for work…have a good day.
Captain Carl: You too! Don’t forget to put the trash out and also to put the cats in the trash.
Me: Ha ha...not happening.
Captain Carl: I’m pretty sure today is National Take Your Cat To Work Day.
Me: Nope.
Captain Carl: National Take Your Cats To The Animal Shelter To Be Euthanized Day?
Me: Shut up.
Captain Carl: National Drive Your Cats To The Middle Of Nowhere, Dump Them On The Side Of The Road And Leave Them For Dead Day?


And just when I begin to worry that being stuck in the house all day with two stinky fur balls is getting to be too much for him, something like this happens:

Email From: Captain Carl
Subject: Good Boy

Have I told you lately how much I love your cats? Because today? I really really do.

Attachment:







My cats live to see another day.

Why I Taped Your Cat To The Wall

That was the subject line in an email I just received from my husband.

This is the picture attached to the email.

It’s cat puke. On our living room rug. That Captain Carl apparently stepped in.

Cats are pretty much awesome, right?

Rock The Cat Box

Dear Captain Carl,

Thanks for proving my point by making a cat house for Max out of a cardboard box.



Just for that, I will totally make out with you when I get back from my trip.

xoxo,
Miss Yvonne

I Will Totally Call The Cat Molestation Police On Your Ass.

Dear Renty,

Stay the fuck away from my cat.

For Reals,
Miss Yvonne

I'm On To Him

Captain Carl says he hates my cat, Max. He says he hates her because she peed on our living room carpet so much that we had to rip it out and replace it with laminate so she wouldn't do it again. He says he hates her because she yowls for her brother, Boo, in the middle of the night. He says he hates her because she likes to be thumped instead of petted (is that a word?) and then when you thump too long she bites you. He says he hates her because whenever we talk to each other, Max tries to get in between us like a jealous child. He says he hates her because she won't cover her poop up in the litter box. He says he hates her because sometimes she'll drag that poop out of the litter box in an apparent silent protest of whatever she's pissed off about that day.

But I'm on to him.
Oh yes I am.

I'm on to him because I see him stop vacuuming (yes he vacuums...jealous much?) when Max is freaking out about the loud noise. I'm on to him because I hear him talk baby talk to her when he thinks no one is listening. I'm on to him because when he grabs a blanket to sit under on the couch, he leaves a bit of it on the couch next to him so Max can sit on it and then lets her snuggle up against him. I'm on to him because he makes sure she has plenty of food on the nights I forget to feed them.
So listen up, Captain. You don't fool me one little bit with your "Hey Max, wanna take a ride in the dryer?" and "Hey Max, wanna see the inside of the microwave?" and Hey Max, let's go take a walk in the field across the street!" and "Hey Max, want me to teach you how to use the handsaw?". Oh no you don't. Because I just heard you ask the cat you hate so much "Are you cold, old lady?" and then I saw you thump her a couple times and scratch her ears and pull her a little closer to you on the blanket.

Nice try, but I'm on to you.

And so is Max.

Do as I say, or I will seriously fuck your shit up.

I live in a world of fur – Not the sexy 70’s porn kind either

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This Is Just Like The Oscars. Only Instead Of A Trophy, You Get Gum.

Tonight's the night, people! That's right, the moment some of you have been kind of interested in!

It's giveaway time!

Miss Yvonne makes her sexy giveaway face

I asked Emo if I could borrow his hat for the drawing and he got all nervous and was all "Why? Are you gonna do something to it? You're gonna do something to it, right?" and I was all "I don't knowwww !!" in a singsong voice and he was all "No one touches the hat" and then he popped his fangs in and left. So I'm using the Kiddo's mowing hat instead, which is a poor substitute and also a little smelly. Meh, whatever.

To make things even more exciting (chuh! like that would even be possible), I got the puke monsters to help me draw names.


Turns out cats really love giveaway drawings. Who knew?



So here are the five lucky winners, in order of how they were drawn out of the smelly hat....

Nikki at This Genius is Insane
Winner of the Juicy Mullet Gum
Frikkin' A Yeahhh!

Green-Eyed Momster
Winner of the Birth Control Gum
hee hee

Erin at Blogging is for Dorks
Winner of the Let's Pretend I Give A Shit Gum
I know you do, Erin

Courtney at Whiskey Girl
Winner of the Does This Gum Make My Ass Look Big? Gum
The answer is no, of course not

Little Ms Blogger at A Little Blog About Nothing
Winner of the Don't Have Ugly Children Gum
Ummm...good luck?

Congrats to all the winners! Send me an email with your real name and mailing address and I'll send your gum just as soon as I finish your personalized card. So yeah, you'll probably get it in about 3 weeks....or less. I'm all over this. Don't you even worry.

And thanks to everyone that entered. And as for all you losers...your name was probably the next to be drawn...too bad Max got a hold of it first.

Please Don't Make Out With My Cat

Things are working out pretty well so far with Renty, our new roommate. He's around 40 years old, divorced, works normal hours and cleans up after himself. He's like the exact opposite of Eco Nazi. Renty has two kids that are 7 and 9 years old, and they come stay with us every other weekend. I was a bit nervous about that, because kids can be shits. Especially kids of recently divorced parents. They're all yelly and whiny. But so far, Renty's kids have been awesome. They are so cute and friendly, and his boy has this lisp that makes me want to squeeze him to death. But I won't, because I got in trouble the last time I did that.

There is one thing about Renty that is a bit disturbing. Renty loves my cat. I mean, he really LOVES my cat. Things started out normal when he moved in...he would pet Max whenever he saw her, but that was about it. Then about a week after he got here, he started calling her "princess". Then the baby talk started. "Hewo wittle pwincess! Who's a wittle pwincess? You are! That's wite, you are!"

But a few days ago, Renty did something that kind of freaked me out. He kissed my cat. Not on the lips, thank God. He kissed her on the head. But still! It's creepy, yo. Even Max is weirded out by it. He does it every time he sees her now. Luckily, I have The Claw ready at all times, just in case he goes for the lips.

Also, today I had to put Renty's underwear in the dryer because he left it in the washer. You know, I figured one of the perks of getting married was that I would only have to touch one man's underwear for the rest of my life. No more surprises, like when you were dating that one bartender and found out later that he wore g-strings...or like when you went out with that mechanic because you were going through your "it's what's on the inside that counts" phase and then it turned out his idea of clean underwear was turning the pair he wore yesterday inside out.

That shit better not happen again, because Miss Yvonne don't wash no cat molester's underwear. No sir.

Wolverine Claw Attack!!

So I won something super cool over at Stir Crazy in the Suburbs...an electronic Wolverine battle claw that her son didn't want because it was "queer". Saaweet!! She picked me because I said I would punch my renters in the face with it if I won, and she agreed to send it to me but only if I provided photographic evidence. And I was all "fuck yeah! Any reason to punch those jerks!" and so she sent it.

Dudes, this claw is sooooo NOT queer. It's like the most super awesome plastic claw I've ever owned. I mean, it has this!


And this!!


Electronic sounds, people! I stuck some batteries in it and wouldn't you know? It makes a sound vaguely reminiscent of butter knives clinking together when you extend the claws. Hot damn!

And the best part? The claws extend when you fling the handle thingy forward, so you're all "Dum dee dum, here I am with a giant plastic fist. What's that? Someone is getting mugged down the street? Wapawww!!" and out come the claws.

This thing is so awesome, we call it "The Claw" and we say it in a deep wolveriney voice.

So yeah...I promised to take pics of me punching the renters with my radical claw. Ummmm, see it's like this....what had happened was, basically I was unable to get any actual pictures of the attack. Because it happened so suddenly, as claw attacks are prone to develop in the blink of an eye. A blink, people! Eco was getting some ice cream and I saw him drip some on my kitchen floor and when he walked away without cleaning it up, the claw just appeared as if from nowhere and suddenly I was bitch slapping him with it. So yeah...no time to get a picture.

That may or may not have happened.

Bottom line, I did not get the promised picture. But instead, I offer you these....

This is the Kiddo showing me what he thinks of The Claw.


Excellent finger extension, son! Isn't he cute? I love his sweet yellow face.


The Claw often shows up on Captain Carl's hand. He mostly uses it to do this...




Somehow The Claw ended up in my cleavage today. I'm pretty sure the Captain dared The Claw to do it. And because The Claw is a bad ass, he totally did.



After it copped a feel, The Claw and the Captain high-fived and the Captain was all "Get some!" and The Claw was all "Titties!" and the Captain was all "Dude, that was wicked awesome" and The Claw was all "Yeah, wait until she goes to bed!" and the Captain was all "Hey man, that's my wife" and The Claw was all "I know...honk honk" and the Captain was all "Don't make me retract you" and The Claw was all "Aw come on man, I was just playin!" and the Captain was all "Just don't let it happen again" and then The Claw was all "Sure sure, sorry......honk".

Then The Claw moved on to more important matters....BATTLE!

After the boob honking, The Claw starts wandering around the house, looking for his next victim and poor Max was just sitting there, minding her own kitty business. So The Claw started poking her.



And Max was all "Bitch, you best get out my face" and The Claw was all "Your mother was a barn slut" and Max was all "Watch your mouth" and The Claw was all "Your mom watches my mouth" and then Max was all "That's it! Get me some vaseline, these rings are comin' off"....and then the battle began.


The Claw went for the jugular right away....


But Max fought back with a bite to the The Claw's pointy finger....


And then unleashed her secret weapon...the head butt....


But it was all for naught.....The Claw was too powerful and electronic for Max and she was forced into submission.


And now The Claw sits on the fireplace mantel as a warning to past, present and future renters...


Be careful what you say or do.....those who dwell in this house have the power of The Claw in their grasp. Also, you pay us to live here so you know, don't be a jerk about things. I mean, would it kill you to be decent once in awhile?


p.s. Thanks Peggy for The Claw....my whole family loves you for sending it to me!

Sunday Morning Hangover

I woke up early this morning with a hangover. A screwdriver hangover, to be exact. Captain Carl and I went to a jazz club last night and it was fantastic. Tiny place, amazing live jazz music and a lot of drinking.

We were supposed to go to Worky's Paparazzi party, but I decided to be a shitty friend and skip it. I know....I suck. But today is our 6th anniversary and I really wanted to be alone with the Captain last night to celebrate. So that's what we did, and I got drunk off three screwdrivers. In my defense, they were really strong...but yeah, I'm a lightweight. I'm pretty sure I started quoting Pee Wee's Big Adventure on the walk back to the car.

There are things about me you wouldn't understand....things you couldn't understand....things you shouldn't understand.



We got home around 1am after a stop at Whataburger for some grease...which is what Captain Carl said I needed when I realized how tipsy I was after we left the club. There's just nothing like a cheeseburger at 1am, right? I had forgotten how good they tasted.

So I was planning on sleeping in this morning. I woke up at 8:30, which is not nearly late enough for my taste. But my head was pounding and I had cotton mouth, so I got up. I decided to open a window and enjoy the birds singing before everyone else in my boarding house woke up.

Just me and the puke monsters...listening to the birds and feeling the cool morning breeze.



I need some Advil.

Happy Cat Dingleberry Day!

So I've got this cat. His name is Boo. He's white, fluffy and cute as the dickens. Oh and he also has this little dingleberry problem. See, Boo has kind of let himself go in recent years. His belly has gotten pretty large, and although it is adorable with all it's white fur and pink skin, it gets in the way of his.......ummm, licking needs. So I have to help him out every once in awhile by performing dingleberry removal surgery.

Cats are pretty much awesome, don't you think?

I enlisted Captain Carl to help me today....because I didn't feel like rolling around on the floor, trying to wrestle my cat into submission all alone. Lucky for him, his job was only to hold Boo still while I dealt with his nether regions. The Kiddo took pictures, in order to share details of the process with you.

You're welcome.

First I needed to suit up in my Dingleberry Removal protective gear.

Do not try this at home. I am a trained Dingleberry Remover-er.

Then I had to go find Boo.

Here he is....you can tell by his face he already knows something is about to go down.

"Ummm, why are you wearing rubber gloves?"

So I picked him up and scratched his ears to make him feel calm and comfy. Yeah, that didn't work. See his paw on my neck? He's trying to gouge me with his claws. Too bad he's declawed. Sucker!

"This is bullshit, period."

And here you see how important positioning of the cat is for this process to work. Right about now is when Boo started to growl and hiss. I don't know what he was so uptight about. I mean, if your butt hadn't been cleaned in weeks, you would appreciate a little help right? Boo is so ungrateful.

Don't worry....the Captain is not sitting on his head. No cats were harmed in the filming of this dingleberry procedure.

"I hate you. So. Hard."

So yeah, Boo is pretty pissed off right now.

Max isn't too happy either.

"Try that shit with me and I'll kill you, bitch."

Adventures in Pet Photography

Have you ever wanted to try something and thought to yourself, hmmm how hard could that be really? I've been sitting here in Captain Carl's office, playing around on the computer...aka procrastinating on decorating the house for Christmas and doing laundry.


So I've been sitting here and this little patch of sunlight is coming through the window and hitting the floor right by my feet. Anyone who has cats knows that there is some kind of law in cat world that wherever a sunbeam is located, a cat must lay in it. So Boo decided to mosy on over and join me in this particular sunbeam. Perfect opportunity for me to do some pet photography, right? How hard can it really be??

I present to you, A Lesson In Futility.

"Boo! Come here Boo! Good boy! Awww, what a pretty boy!"

"Shit."

"Boo, come here big boy! Come here Boo Boo Kitty!"

"Damn It!"

"Hey Boo, look at mommy! Come here and look at mommy!"

"Ack!"

"Boo, get your fat kitty ass over here and look at me. You want a treaty? I'll give you a treaty, just come look at mommy."

"Son of a bitch!!"

"I know you can hear me. Quit ignoring me, you little fucker."

"That's a good Boo Boo. Mommy loves you, yes she does!"

That took me 20 minutes. Damn, pet photography is hard!

Puke Monster Update

Boo puked on our bed today.

Again.

Did I mention Boo speaks in an Antonio Banderas voice?

My husband is voting to "set him free in nature where he longs to be with his own kind." Luckily for Boo, this house is run by an autonomous dictatorship...and guess who's the dictator.

Meet the Puke Monsters

We have two puke machines in our house. Their names are Maxine Peepee Pants and Boo Boo Kitty Cat. Max and Boo for short. Their full time jobs are to puke as much as possible...preferably in the middle of the night right in front of the bed or bathroom sink. You know, so we can step in it on our way to the bathroom. I swear they do it on purpose. One time I thought I heard Max giggling when my husband squished a little bit of hairball between his toes.

Cute, huh?