Hey! Cat! Get Off of My Car!

copyright 2010, Dawn Weber

Your car takes Turtle Wax.

My car? Needs a bikini wax.

This is because it's covered in pussy hair thanks to our two hateful, corrupt, malicious, shedding cats. They love to perch their 23 combined pounds on the fabric roof of my prized, hard-won convertible. Every damn day.

They've made it their personal landing strip.

Evil garage-dwelling felines. I think they're secretly mocking me. Probably trying to kill me. Blood pressure rises every time I see those Fat Fuzzies on the fragile frame canvas. Shooting pains in my left arm, pounding vein in the temple...

"Get Off!" I yell from the doorway.

*Blank, green-eyed cat stare. Hairy pusses remain on roof.*

"GET OFF!" I yell, stepping into garage.

*Green-eyed blink-blink. Yawn. Hairy pusses still seated...*

"GET THE F*CK OFF MY CARRR!! HISSSSSS!!!!" I shriek, running at car.

*Cats and hair scatter. Fur glues itself to roof. Crazed woman clutches chest.*

I'll tell you why: That stuff is like Velcro. It does not come off the canvas. Even on my 80 m.p.h. 65 m.p.h., two-hour round-trip commute each day, I am stuck with the fur.

Now, I realize that in the whole war-torn, general cluster-f*ck state of the planet, the hair-mobile isn't a crucial topic.

Important issues: You're still at the wrong blog.

All I know is that I scrimped, saved and waited 40 years to buy this little old 2003, Craigslist-purchased ragtop. I will not have the Fuzzball Farts using it as their hammock-hair-removal-system.

So I started coming up with plans to keep them off the roof.

Sometimes, I have some really great brainstorms.

And other times I should just lie down until those storms blow on through.

Exhibit A: The plain blue tarp.

Surely, I thought, this cold plastic would render the roof uncomfortable for Furball Fairies. Surely the crinkly sound would annoy Prudent Pusses.

"Not so!" said the Comfy Kitties, perched on top of blue tarp, their effing fur finding its way back underneath to canvas car top.

Exhibit B: The same plain blue tarp with glued on mothballs.

Hearing that cats dislike mothballs, I painstakingly glued two entire boxes to the blue tarp. This apparently produced the fume "Methyl-Ethyl-Deathyl-ate." Or "Ethel" for short.

It smelled like old ladies. And death. The Mothball Tarp kept the cats off the car, alright, but its fumes also made everyone ill. Ethel the Toxic Cloud seeped from the garage throughout the entire house, and though I got rid of it two weeks ago, I still smell it.

Which brings us to...

Exhibit C: The Fancy-Pants Motion-detecting Wireless Alarm System.

That's right - I've gone high-tech on their asses. This is no box 'o mothballs. Actual coin was spent on this fine $19.99 GE appliance.

(Dr. Evil voice) With infrared LASER beam!

This alarm will go on the top of the car. And when those two decide it's hair-hammock time, the LASER beam will sense their motion, and emit an ear-splitting 120-decibel alarm! The Fuzz-Festers will flee the crime scene!

Oh, yes. I have high hopes for this technology. It better work.

Because the husband is not a fan of the Pussy Princesses. He frequently volunteers to get rid of their Hairy Highnesses, and I sure don't want that to happen.

Yet.

Give it time.


(A re-post, because, in the words of Clark Griswold, "I'M ON VACATION!!!" but I didn't want to deny you the chance to once again read about pussy hair.
Also, it's two years later, the cats are now 100 years old but still manage to haul their ancient asses up to the Beetle roof. And the $19.99 alarm system doesn't function anymore. Of course it doesn't.
Free to ANY home: 2 elderly, evil, shedding cats. And one broken alarm system.)