Catcombing

Tired of the clouds of cat hair making me sneeze, I dug out an old fine-toothed pet comb that we had bought for grooming one of the bunnies years ago and combed out both cats. The results were entirely predictable: Easy-going Briggs thought it was great, purred loudly and rolled on his back so that I could comb his bellyfur. Beckham grumped in a cute little chirpy voice, and then when I didn't quit, got louder and grumpier, finally "mrrreowr"ing and leaping out of my lap in a huff.