Baby furballs

I furminated the cat the other day. Because that's the sort of decadent, crazy-fun thing we get up to around here. Jealous? YOU SHOULD BE.

The cat was quite hairy. And by 'quite' I mean, oh-my-god-that's-disgusting, type hairy. It was, not to mince words, a shedding filth machine.

So I gave her a good going over with the Furminator (which, if you don't know, is a bit of a cross between a brush and a razor, but not quite as cruel as that sounds. Okay, it is that cruel. But they love it. They do. The little feline freaks.) and the fur just kept on coming. Handfuls of it. Literally.

(by the way, the creature lurking to the left of the picture is not the cat. In case you were worried.)

I started piling this mass of fur on the floor, disgusted and fascinated in equal measure. The cat eventually escaped, just before it was rendered completely bald, and I sat back and stared in wondering awe at the mound. If I looked closely, I could see whole ecosystems I had unwittingly destroyed. I felt like God.

Then Lumpy got in on the action, grabbed a handful, and shoved it straight in his mouth.

Now that's Baby Led Weaning at it's best.