This past winter Eden's fur matted really, really badly. I'm not a neglectful pet owner by any means and tried to brush her (she put up a fight, but I managed to brush some mats out) but the mats got big and they were tight to her skin, so cutting them would have been risky without another set of very steady hands. When I saw that they were loosening, though, I could get at them and all was good. There was no issue with dirt, waste (they were all in the front) or parasites, so I just kept an eye on her and all was well. One night, I noticed she was missing a huge one under her arm; it had either fallen away naturally or she had chewed it out. I didn't think much of it until she carried it into the living room later that night, meowing and meowing like she had killed it. I tossed it out with a laugh. I went away for vacation and left the cats in the care of my aunt/landlord and she reported that there was another mat shed. Good! I came home to find it (or a different one) on the floor and a completely mat-free Edens bugging the hell out of me for pettings. That night she carried the mat out into the living room, carrying on like before. It was so cute, though, I didn't have the heart to take it away.
Oh what have I done?
|Yes that's a Christmas tree. Yes it's almost July. Accept it and move on. Also, awwww.|
Almost every night (and as I sit here writing, it's almost time for her to start) I hear some distinctive sounds you can only recognize if you've ever seen a mother cat interact with her kittens. It's that sort of low brr that gets a blind kitten's attention as the mother comes over to the litter-- this is when she is picking up her baby. Yes, that's right. This mat of her own fur is her baby.
She will carry this mat of fur from the dining room/cat play room to the living room, brring and meowing nonstop. Nonstop. She doesn't shut up. Sometimes she runs with it in her mouth and launches herself into the window sill, in which I threaten to call child protective services on her.
|Then she destroyed my soul|
|Using. Her. Fucking. Hand.|
At this point, I'm so afraid she'll walk around the house making that seeking noise that mother cats make that I can't stand to throw that mat of fur away, but this can't be healthy. I mean, she's obsessed with lights and has a not-kitten. If I find a rotting horde of cat food hidden away somewhere I'll have a veritable Miss Havisham (granted, she never carried around a faux baby).