"Do not meddle in the affairs of cats, for they are subtle and will pee on your computer." --Bruce Graham

Good golly, I hope not, but I fully expect some sort of cat vigilantism coming my way.

Today, Elvis got shaved!

I've had the poor beast for at least 10 years and not once have I shaved him.  It was time. I'm tired of cat hair flying around my apartment every time I pet him. Sick of cleaning up hairballs. And, frankly, a tad bit concerned about worms clinging to his fur.  Yuck.

If you remember, here's what he looked like before:

Mom & Dad came over (saviors!) to help.  Mom sat in the living room, far, far away from the trauma while Dad & I barricaded ourselves with Elvis in the bathroom.  (Dale was, of course, hiding.)

I was covered- literally covered- in Elvis cat-hair. Why did I bother to shower? Dad & I were both sweating by the time it was all over (as was Elvis), yet Dad seemed to be surprisingly cat-hair-free, whereas I had to change my clothes.

I think Dad looks a bit gleeful about the whole thing. Reminiscent of shearing sheep though Dad said sheep would get submissive at some point. Elvis did not. No blood was drawn, but I'm expecting repercussions to happen soon.  Clothes in the water dish? Hairball on the couch? Peeing on my face as I sleep? Yep, I'm prepared.
Here's the beast afterward.  He's so skinny!  

 This is exactly what I imagine he was thinking....

Not only did Dad help me shave a squiggly, wiggly Elvis, but he fixed my vacuum!  I don't think it's worked properly for at least a month. Which means, a month's worth of cat hair was imbedded in my carpet.  Not anymore! I dumped an entire cat in the garbage today. Actually two (one from vacuuming and one from shaving Elvis). 

I'm beat. It's time for a nap.