I guess I must be one of those herbally, hippy types.  I don’t like using antibiotics if I can help it, I use lavendar oil on my pillow to get to sleep and I go to a kinesoligist to cure a stiff neck. (Hey! Don’t knock it, it worked!)

So the thought of putting our Birman Cat Louie under sedation for a clip rankled.  Along with the proposed $180 bill.  Eek!

I knew in my heart that gentle Louie wouldn’t need a sedative, but try telling a vet that.  Cats do have a reputation for getting kinda nasty when stretched out over a bench and attacked with a pair of scissors and a razor.

Then a local dog groomer came to the rescue. Yay! With her no-nonsense attitude and gutsy dispostion , she agreed to undertake a non-sedated cat grooming session on the condition that “if Louie was not 100% angelic”, the clip would be cut short (pardon the pun).

Bouyed by Miss D’s article on peanut butter and wriggly pups, I called on Dave to come and help with a small jar of anchovie paste.  And it worked a treat! Sure it was ridiculously smelly, but we only needed to distract him for the first five, stressful minutes of his groom and then he even seemed to like the feel of the clippers on his back (though not his tummy).

Have to say, the groomer did a FAB job, and because he was soooo good she only charged us $40! Sure Louie is a relaxed cat, but I think the anchovie paste really helped out too.

And since his cut, Louie’s been confident, energised and has even pranced!  He’s a cat that truly defies convention.

 Doesn’t he look just gorgeous?

This time last year I’d’ve shot milk through my nose at the notion of shelling out for a heated cat bed. I mean, my last cat sneered at cat beds and slept quite comfortably on chairs and “found objects” thank you very much. Oh yes — I had scales on my eyes my friends, but now I see the light. Because it’s not about spoiling the bloody cat – it’s about making her as easy to live with as possible.

Indoor cats cope much better with life if they can see outside – keep ‘em locked in all day, as you should in a country like Australia, and watch your home turn into a late season episode of Big Brother, when everyone turns all sharp-clawed and back-stabby. Give a cat a perch where he can watch the clouds drifting by and the birds poking out their tongues (do birds have tongues?) and you’ll get a much saner pet.

And, being the little, light-boned mammals that they are, cats instinctively seek out warmth. Mei Mei, being a Cornish Rex and all, sleeps where the heater or the hot water bottle are, even if it means sleeping on bare boards, or a bed of nails.

So if I had the spare dosh, I’d get my paws on K&H’s Thermo Kitty Sill. It attaches to your window sill and can support even the porkiest cat, and it keeps Puss roasting nicely at about 102 degrees, which sounds pretty bloody cosy if you ask me. I bet it would also go a long way towards keeping Fluffy’s fluff off your black velvet couch, wallpaper etc. You’ll just have to put up with your non-cat-owning friends shooting milk outta their noses when they see it.

RATING:
BUY IT: K&H
COST: From US $59.95 (from AUD $47.00)

The downside of course, to sharing your life with a gorgeous longhaired cat is that your wardrobe gets hairy.

Don’t think I’m a snob, but frankly, I’m petrified of becoming known as the neighbourhood “cat lady” due to the inclination my clothes seem to have for attracting quantum quantities of cat hair.

In a desperate attempt to avoid this feral fate, I’ve been using an old-school flat brush on Louie’s filament-like fur. And while this has been effective in setting a purr up in him so loud I’m hard put to hear the telly, I still ended up looking like the back end of sheep when leaving the house and being sandblasted by the cold light of day.

Enter, the FURminator! With the leading question “Love your pet, hate the shedding?” and a guarantee to reduce shedding better than any brush or comb, I was frantic to give it a shot.

David and I read the directions with protective parental eyes and handled it as if it might contain a cocktail of unstable chemicals or flammable liquids.

The instructions warned us to first check Louie for tangled fur and skin abrasions. We did, he didn’t, but if he had, we should steer well clear.

After transporting Louie outside, David recited the instructions while I took up the FURminator position.

“When using the FURminator,” he began “use it the same way you would a hair brush, stroking up and across and away from the pet’s skin and using long, gentle strokes.” David sternly supervised as I attempted this on Louie’s uncoordinated but determinedly squirming bulk.

“Avoiding the sensitive areas of the body (stomach, legs, and rectum),” he continued. “Press lightly through the fur so as not to apply too much pressure.”

For a while, there was no noise apart from a faint scuffle in the alley. This was the sound of David bolting after Louie as he enacted the first of what would be many FURminator escape attempts (Louie, not Dave).

Eventually, with both of us firmly holding down him down, we managed to extract a garden planter of fur from his body. If you happen to be the proud owner of a hairy cat, you can imagine what a very satisfying experience this was. A garden planter! Filled with fur! Our smugness, however, was marred by the fact that Louie absolutely LOATHED it and turned his back on us for the rest of the day. He even ran under the table when I brought the old brush out later that week.

We don’t have a puppy (yet!) to try it out on, and it may well prove to be a more dog friendly tool than a cat friendly one. It may well be no coincidence that that the website boasts seven photos of grinning dogs lolling neck high in their own fur, and just two of cats looking only half as happy, and then only just.

Or maybe I’m just gutless and this character flaw, combined with Louie’s apparent ability to generate five garden planters of fur per day, means that if I’m not prepared to FURminate him regularly, all of my clothes will continue with their feline trans-moggie-phication.

But for now, rather than face the wrath of Louie, I’ll soldier on using my little old school flat cat brush. I may end up as the “fur-covered neighbourhood cat lady”, but it’s worth it to hear him purr.

RATING: 

BUY IT: www.furminator.com

COST: From AUD$35 (US$25)