The Fast and the Furriest

“I’m going to Puerto Vallarta!”

“I’m going to go golfing in Florida!”

“I’m gonna sleep for seven days and seven nights” I thought with a smile, completely drained from our last week at work yet attempting to maintain my usual sunny disposition in the presence of others.

Don’t get me wrong, I have nothing against the people that have the luxury of the ‘go-see-do’ lifestyle, but for me personally, a hiatus means nothing more than lying on my bed with my kitty watching TV, sleeping late and spending as little money as possible!

So hearing the land-line ring in my bat-cave (some time before noon), I pulled a pillow over my head and shut out the world.  And curled up next to me, my feline sidekick Pretty burrowed her face into the bedding as well.

We simply weren’t ready for any more drama.

>>><<<

But plucking away some scary eyebrow hairs and one sinister lengthy follicle emanating from a mole just offset of the right dimple on my face (yikes!), I slapped on some hair color over my horrendously silver roots later in the afternoon and plopped down, upright, peroxide-stinky-headed on the bed for the next forty-five minutes whilst Ms. Clairol worked her magic.

“Sooo, what’s up with your hair?” I rhetorically asked my kitty-cohort, who ignored my question obliquely as we lolled lazily during a marathon of Indiana Jones cable movies while I combed her fur with an obnoxiously brightly colored pink brush (a tasteful yet glittery green skull and crossbones emblem added to the backside as we are prone to “Barbie-down” such girly pinkishness here in the bat-cave.) And that’s when I noticed them:



(Christopher Moore fans will appreciate my mouse pad, but I digress.)

“What are these weird ‘tufts’?” I wondered out loud.  Immediately pausing the TV, clicking on the air conditioning (in case she was overheated in our current balmy weather) and racing onto the World Wide Web in search of answers as to what on earth might be wrong with my feline best friend, I stumbled upon the following – paraphrased from “Pawprints and Purrs, Inc”:

à  “Over-grooming is a stress-related disorder, and can be classified as obsessive compulsive behavior. Self grooming is relaxing to the cat, so it seems quite natural that when the cat becomes stressed she attempts to calm herself down by pursuing a relaxing activity such as grooming. Over-grooming may start out as a result of an environmental change (new member to the household, moved house, etc.,) but over time this behavior becomes compulsive, even if the original cause of the stress is no longer around.”

“Stress?  What stress could you possibly have?” I rhetorically asked my fuzzy companion yet again, befuddled as to where I had recently re-established my extra bath towels after what I now refer to as “The Landlord Incident”.  (Don’t even get me started on my personal neurotic two-week bender of psychosis at my inability to locate a bottle of white-out…)

“You generally sleep all day, and we’re blessed to get to be at home together for a whole week!” I continued, my left eye beginning to seep from the peroxide fumes emanating off my scalp.  “You’re fine!” I assured her with my good right eye, securing some favorite multi-striped towels (as far as I know) and toddling off into the shower.

Yet fresh as a daisy (and with brilliantly colored hair on my head) twenty minutes later, the blaring red light still blinked ominously on my land-line…

Click.

“Hey Penny!  Just wondered what you’re up to and checking your availability for a new midseason NBC show to start up in September!” the friendly voice of a previous co-worker and potential boss rang sweetly out of my answering machine.  “Call me back at this number” she continued pleasantly, leaving me with the details; i.e., its leading lady, the Diva Comedienne Executive Producer and the studio lot where they plan to shoot in the fall.

à  “This behavior may take the form of excessive licking at the fur or pulling out tufts of fur. The most commonly affected areas are the forelegs.”

“How lovely that she thought of me,” I smiled to The Universe.  “How much fun might that be?” I pondered in the comfort of my home in my t-shirt and boxer shorts.  “And how the hell did I miss that giant patch of hair on my koala bearish kneecap when I was in the shower?” I blanched, readjusting my glasses and scurrying for a razor.

à  “If it isn’t possible to bring the cat’s behavior under control by changing the stress and environment, then it may be necessary to try medications…”

Pouring a Saturday night voddy cocktail (hey, some doctors call it medication!), I weighed my potential options. 

On the one hand you always say “yes” in Tinsel Town until you absolutely have to say “no”.  But with my previous show hanging precariously in the balance that I was desperately hoping to return to, I at the very least felt obligated to return the phone call – even if the answer was as simple as “I don’t know what my schedule is, but THANK YOU, and I hope we work together again soon.” 

And having been sent immediately to her voice mail, I left a message and poured another cocktail as I smiled to The Universe once again with ultimate gratitude for the opportunity to continue working in this ridiculous, wondrous fantasy world that actually (almost!) pays my bills; where my obligation to the job ends with the humble attempt to make people laugh.

“Yeah, I suppose I could work with yet another high-profile Actress…” I contemplated, plopping on the bed once more nearby my feline sidekick whilst slurping my voddy; a lovely dose of liquid courage beginning to kick in.  “It’s not all that tough at the end of the day (I lied).  So, whaddaya think?” I rhetorically asked Pretty once again, expecting nothing more than her usual feline disinterest in all matters non-milk related. 

However, leave it to my feline Diva to look out for OUR best interests and absolutely DEMAND that I say “NO!”



(YIKES!) 

Grateful that as of yesterday, my last show is actually coming back; and cheers to the end of mine and Pretty’s personal melodrama.  (After all, how much more leg hair could we possibly remove?!)

Ready for our Nair commercial,

~P and P

Author’s note:  In case you were concerned, kind reader, I’m happy to report that Pretty has stopped over-grooming and has returned to her usual idyllic lifestyle.  As for me, well I’m still plucking as fast as I can!