However, today I brushed my cats. And I have concluded that Chrissy deliberately grows hair that comes out easily, just to PISS ME OFF. I brushed that cat for 45 minutes straight, got enough fur to build another Chrissy, and several scratches for my troubles. Her fur now feels like silk. I decide that's enough, and go, clean the brush, wash the brush and get ready to start on Goten. I come back and Chrissy is laying on the couch... she gets up and sure enough, a huge pile of fur is on the couch. I just brushed her! How could she shed that much in three minutes? She's got a mutant hair chromosome, I know she does.
Goten was another matter. He did not want to be brushed. That doesn't really phase me, Goten never wants to be brushed. He shows his disfavor to the brush by trying to bite me. So it goes like this.. stroke, bite, stroke, bite, etc. If I time it right, Goten lunges for the bite, but I manage to move the brush before he actually gets to me, so it's more like, Stroke, snap at air, stroke, snap at air... it's rather like a weird cat/human dance.
I brushed him for about ten minutes, playing this little "dance of doom." Then, he got smart. Which shocked me, because Goten being smart is a rare treat around our place. But he did it today. He decided instead of going for my flesh, he'd aim for the brush. He got it. Grabbed it in his mouth, pulled it out of my hands, sunk his dagger claws into the rubber on the handle and hung on for dear life.
He then proceeded to chew on it. Sure, I could have stopped him, but not at great risk to my flesh, so I let him continue, figuring he'd tire out. Todd and I went out to run errands and go to the doctor's (yet... again...) we return home and I'll be dipped if every single bristle in that brush wasn't totally picked out and now is lying on the floor, looking like someone was playing Pins and Needles on the living room floor. *And* the rubber coating that the bristles were sitting in? Shreaded. Along with the rubber handle. Goten managed to disasemble the brush completely.
I suppose I should just be grateful the bugger didn't eat it.
But, the fact that I let him keep the brush does not prove I'm a total tard. What proves I'm brain damaged beyond repair is that I actually *counted* all the little bristles and made sure that all of them were accounted for. There were 400 bristles in the brush... they have all been accounted for. So, I have saved myself a trip to the vet. If the rubber he chewed on gives him indigestion, it just serves him right.
I swear, my cats aren't just stupid... they have some rare disese that makes them stupid, and is contagious, because the longer I live with them, the more I find myself spending valuable time doing the most insanely stupid things... like counting brush bristles.