I am a good cat. I keep myself clean. I keep the mice from leaving the aviary. From time to time I keep the blonde bimbo and little red ratface dogs in line -- well, all right, mostly I just tease them from where they cannot reach me. Dumbo bimbo's okay -- big and klutzy but gentle, but that little red ratface -- she's smart, I tell you. At least, that is, smart for a dog. Average intelligence for a cat. You don't see her with a blog, do you?
Right, so the point of this post is that I'm a good cat, and I do what all good cats do: I keep myself clean. And I do this by licking myself. As good cats do. So, why, oh why, do I get furballs? Well, I've never really had one before. And this was a beauty. Involved lots of coughing. My beautiful tabby-and-black fur becoming dull. Lots more coughing. I couldn't get rid of the blasted thing.
So, what did my humans go out and do? They bought this foul-smelling (wish it was fowl-smelling!) paste that they put on my nose. Licorice flavoured they called it. I am a cat. I do not eat licorice. Do you see a problem here? Because I certainly do. So they buy this foul stuff, and they put it on my nose. And, of course, because I'm a good cat who likes to keep herself clean, I lick it off. Dogs, did my eyes go round. And I ran, I tell you. I ran, because if I ran far enough I might leave that foul-smelling stuff, that foul-tasting stuff behind. But, no, it came with me, didn't it? Now, they're putting it in my canned food. And giving me special dry food with other laxatives in it. Yes, you've guessed it -- that foul, black, licorice stuff is a laxative. I have a fur ball not constipation. Stupid humans!