You must not have cats. Felines and wicker don’t mix.
Speaking of cats and flatulence, my Maggie is 16 and seems to like to cuddle with her butt near my face at those times of tumultuous digestion
It's rather than no cats are allowed on any chairs or expecially tables or countertops in our house. Don't worry; they have their own rug-perch houses, beds, scratchposts, fleece pads, baskets, cushions, afghans, window seats, towel-lined shelves, nooks'n'crannies, closet floors, cat doors, shrubbery, mint gardens, drooping trees, carpeted staircases, travel cages, quilts, laundry bins, bathmats, bathtub rims, kitchen mats, fireplaces, radiators, heat lamps, cardboard boxes, shopping bags, buckets, storage room, laundry room, tool room, guest room, hidey holes -- even a hole in the basement ceiling...
Speaking of cats and flatulence, my Maggie is 16 and seems to like to cuddle with her butt near my face at those times of tumultuous digestion
They're a trip, aren't they? I had an old male who, if I didn't get up out of bed to feed him promptly, would sit his butt right down on my face. Incentive.
