Because (Usually) There's No Cat Hair!

Blogosphere Suddenly Short On Deductive Reasoning

A few people, and I bet they're all either overbearing mothers or p-whipped mama's boys have polluted my inbox asking why on earth I would leave a suit coat laying on a sofa, and not put it in the closet "where it belongs". Apparently it's MY fault the cat decided to roll around on it, and I have horribly tortured Pookie Cat by not giving her daily treats.

When the Carnival of Cats gets an Instalanche, and I get 400 new visitors in two days, odds are a few will be nosy parkers...

OK, as I said in the catblog... the front room, or parlor, or what have you, is generally an area where the furmonsters are verboten. It's also behind closed doors. That means it's the one room in the house that's mostly free of drifting cat fur, and on the odd days I have to assume the corporate armor, I don't have to be constantly picking fuzz off my jacket.

Pookie Cat took advantage of my using the parlor as a staging area for all the krep brought into the house to prepare for the hurricane, and hid under the couch until I was out of sight, then wallowed on my jacket.

Hmmmph. Next time, I'll just say I beat her soundly with a large stick, just to hear these ninnies mewl and whine.