Mammal Mondays: Hairy Ankles

I have a carefully crafted plan designed to launch me out the door in the morning with the smallest possible amount of pet hair on my clothes. Okay, so “launch” is an overly hopeful term, considering how desperately difficult I find mornings. Let’s just suffice it to say I have a morning plan to get me to work on time, sans mammal hair. This multi-step procedure involves me staying in my fuzzy housecoat until the last possible moment.

After I’ve let the dog back in from his morning poop, I put him in his kennel for the workday, treat included, and get myself dressed. Note that throughout this entire time Leroy, the white-haired one, has been locked in the second upstairs bedroom that serves as my office. Actually, it will start serving as my office after the bathroom renovations are finished and I can reclaim the space. Leroy must stay locked in the office until the last second to ensure that he stays the heck away from my pant legs. Locking him in the office isn’t a punishment; his kitty bed and food dish are in there, as is his litterbox. It’s like a studio apartment for the cat, complete with a view of the backyard.

Two facts are undoubtedly true about Leroy. Truth number one: he is mostly white and very soft. Truth number two: he is tremendously affectionate. The unfortunate combination of these truths is one very soft cat who wants to rub himself on the closest available human. Since I am the only human who lives with the mammals, I am the targeted human pretty much all the time.

The fuzziest, most determined mammal in town.

Once my bags are packed, and I’m dressed with my coat on and my keys in my hand, I gingerly turn the snazzy glass doorknob on my office door and release the beast. Leroy usually darts out looking for someone to love. If I’m swift and crafty enough, I can sometimes distract him by tossing something into the livingroom as I bolt for the safety of the back porch. I’ve got about a 50/50 chance of getting to the back porch hair free.

It I manage to distract Leroy long enough, I cut for the back porch, shut the door behind me, and leave poor Leroy mewling on the other side. On those “off” days that I don’t quite beat the fuzzy one to the porch, he rubs vigorously against my ankles and shins, and I am covered in soft white cat hair from the knee down.

The thing about Leroy’s hair is that the only thing that takes all of it off my pants is the washing machine, so if he catches me with his attack of love, no amount of sticky lint roller will help. 3M innovation is great and all, but clearly the engineers of those masking tape-esque rollers have never met someone like Leroy.

We do this little dance five days a week, Leroy and I. Right now, one of the best things about the weather warming up is that I can start wearing capri pants. As long as I keep my legs smooth so there’s no bristles for Leroy’s hair to velcro onto, my morning routine will improve significantly as summer gets closer.

I’ve been seriously considering having Leroy shaved for the summer, and hot weather could help to seal the deal. Any day, sunshine, any day.

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