You say cats are perfect. Or, I'm sure you've even gone so far as to say "purrfect" with an exaggeration on the double 'rrs.'
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And I would wholeheartedly agree if it were not for that minor, almost minuscule, not even perhaps worth mentioning, indelicate matter beyond our control:
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It is "that thing we do."
My Own calls it "whoowarfing." Really! Certainly, I'm sure, a more scientific or dignified terminology exists for the physiological processing of groomed hair.
Cats are a fastidious creature. Our tongue is a brush you know. Did you imagine our cleanliness was because of some coif fairy?
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A little space if you will!
We're glad you come running out of concern when you hear the rhythmic heaving and hawking - as if you're ready to perform the Heimlich maneuver - but must you slip the napkin under our nose to catch the little fur cocoon we're about to expel?
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Desist! This feat demands concentration!
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Soley for the purpose of our amusement then, do we willingly sacrifice the status of perfection. It is much more entertaining to watch you happen upon the cold bi-product of our constant grooming, say barefoot, in the early morning dark, then it is to own perfection.
'That thing you do' on one foot is not only priceless, it is purrfect ;)
