"Everything's Coming Up Roses"
from Gypsy

"Something Squishy This Way Comes"

First, I would like to say I don't understand where the name "hairball" comes from. If we were talking neutering, I could understand. But I have never seen anything spherical come out of any of my cats.

Usually, the technique is to begin a barf, and then back away slowly while continuing to heave. Well executed, with perfect form, this results in a cylindrical object being deposited on your upholstery or expensive Oriental carpet. Kind of like using a pastry tube. Boots can back half way across a room, leaving some prizewinners in his wake.

This morning, right there under the computer desk, in what I consider a deliberate act of defiance, I stepped in one deposited in front of my chair. Now, when this happens, its important to identify the culprit so you can start with the Petramalt. This particular haircigar was black. That narrows it down to four possibilities. Its harder with the Tabbies, because their fur is the same color as their dry food, so you're not exactly sure what you're looking at. I've never known Sammy to barf. Not even a dry cough. He must have very digestible fur.

As I ponder my gummy slipper, I'm thinking its either Boots, Tally, Donovan or Gizmo. Boots and Tally are the most likely because they have long fur, but Gizmo sheds like nuclear fallout.

I now begin what my cats call my Hover Maneuver. All day long, I'm listening for the telltale cough, or gag if you're too late. Finally, I hear it coming from the other room. I rush in. Its Gizmo, I'm certain of it. This presents a problem, because Zeke and Gizmo regard Petromalt like toxic waste. So it means it's going to have to be smeared on Gizzy's paw. Well, Roy and Seigfreid are unavailable so I'm going to have to do this myself.

Now Gizmo is not a stupid cat. He watches me silently as I get the tube out from the basket. I approach him from the front but he's backing up as fast as his little legs will carry him. I have the goop on my finger, and I hurry to catch up.

I swipe at his paw!

It's stuck on there!

No, it isn't!

Gizmo is flicking his paw frantically, while racing about on his other 3 good legs. You know the ones that aren't paralyzed by goop. I watch the entire gob arc up onto my white wall. AACK! I'm running after him while trying to get more Petramalt onto my finger. I can see where he's going. I have to reach him before he gets behind the bed. Zeke taught him that. I catch him in the hallway and I smear the stuff on his paw. Its always enjoyable watching a cat gallop out of the room on 3 paws, flinging Petromalt off the 4th from here to the other end of the house. Sigh. Of course, the other cats who think it's a treat, follow in his wake licking up Petrosplats. After a few frenzied steps, Gizmo stops and starts to groom. I'm treated to the Glare To End All Glares.

But I feel so much better. I sit here satisfied that I have begun the appropriate treatment. And then I hear it. Cough. Cough, cough, gag and puke. I look around. Oh No. It's not Gizmo, its Donovan! I've medicated the wrong cat. Poor Gizmo.

So I have the tube in my hand. I open the cap. I put some on my finger. Here Donny, Donny, Donny……..