"Looks Fine To Me..."

Here's a question I would really like answered. Are hairless cats really hairless? The reason I'm asking is we have two that aren't...hairless that is, and if the hairless variety truly do not shed, then I would give serious thought to trading our present cats in for a couple of the hairless ones.

It's not that I don't like out two cats. They are okay as far as cats go. I prefer a dog as a pet, but Judi insisted that after our last little dog passed away to Doggy Heaven that any new pets in our home would be of the feline variety. And you know the old saying, "If Mama ain't happy, nobody ain't happy." So cats it is.

Problem is they shed...constantly. We have wooden and tile floors throughout our home and the cat's constant shedding of their fur creates dust bunnies in every nook and cranny all through the house. I wouldn't care except it falls to my lot to be responsible for keeping these tumbleweed looking deposits from accumulating in such large quantities that they obscure the furniture. Originally given a choice, I choose this chore in lieu of daily litter box duty. But even that decision has proven to be a regular bane to my existence, as Judi has determined that a particular method of keeping the cat hairs swept up requires a special approach and tool. I personally prefer an old fashion straw broom to tackle the task, but Judi insist that I use a special vacuum cleaner to do the job. When she is supervising my efforts, the vacuum is employed. When she ain't around, it's me and my trusty broom. (What she don't know won't kill her!)

Last Saturday it was cat hair cleaning day and she was wearing her supervisory hat. "Hon." she says sweetly, "Would you mind taking care of sweeping the floors?" "All of them," I teased. "No," just the ones we walk on...and use the sweeper." "You mean the broom?" "You know what I mean." "Ah hon, that thing is a pain in the a--." She quickly retorted, "You know that when you only use a broom that it throws all the cat hairs and dust particles up in the air." "Yes, I realize that, but it gets it off the floor!" She wasn't amused. "So, you get started. I'm going to run to the post office, but I'll be right back!" This was her way of letting me know that I had best not entertain the idea of switching to my trusty broom.

So, whirring away I went. First in the living room, then the dining room, then into the hallway, and was almost to the kitchen when she returned. She smiled. It didn't last. From the front of the house I heard her shout, "Did you move anything? That was posed as a question, but it was really intended as a statement; "You didn't move anything!" "I did the best I could," I replied hopefully. "There's STILL cat hairs under the furniture!" "See, I told you this stupid sweeper isn't worth a crap!" She comes stomping into the kitchen. "Here...let me show you how to work that thing! She unplugs the vacuum from the wall and drags it back into the living room where she proceeds to shove the thing in, under and around every obstacle in the room...then on to the dining room, ending up back in the hallway, all the time shouting operating instructions and procedures over the whir of the electric motor. "See?" she said after the whir of the motor dies down. "If you use the thing right it does the job!" "I see," I said, with a big ole smile on my face. "You certainly do nice work," I added, obviously not knowing (or apparently not caring) when I was ahead. "Since I ended up doing your job, you now have to do mine!" "You don't mean the litter box?," I said in my best alarmed voice. "Yes, the litter box!" "The crime doesn't fit the punishment," I replied. "You want punished? I'll show you punished...and I think you know what I mean! I did. "Are there any special tools that I need to use? (Just couldn't leave it alone, could I?) No reply. Just that look that all men recognize that mimics a cautionary sign in the Arctic, "You're treading on thin ice here buddy!"

So...back to my original question. Are hairless cats really hairless? I'm in the market for a pair.

(This post is dedicated to my bogging buddy, Martha, but more precisely to her husband, who, like me, believes that the task of cleaning is much like beauty; it's all in the eye of the beholder.)