Hayley is a beautiful long-haired tortie. She has black spots in one eye and gorgeous long ear tufts. She is the sister of Opal and Reese, and the daughter of Crystal. Crystal and her kittens were dropped off on the doorstep of the Washington Area Humane Society the night before I decided to foster a litter of kittens and their mom. Of course, I ended up keeping them, all except for China Cat Sunflower, who now lives with my daughter and her husband.
Hayley is extremely shy, totally unlike her gregarious sister and bully brother. She spends most of her time on the rocking chair in my library, or cuddled up on my bed with my teddy bear. She is huge and walks like a raccoon, with her back arched and kind of waddling from side to side. She doesn't purr (neither does Opal). All four of them - Crystal, Opal, Hayley and Reese - will carry toys around in their mouths and caterwaul at night in the dark. None of my other cats do this, so it must be genetic.
She doesn't mind being petted or brushed, but try to pick her up and she totally freaks out - legs flying in all directions. She won't bite or scratch, but you sure aren't going to get a hold on her.
Hayley has very long hair, and for a couple weeks now I've seen large mats hanging off of her "britches" on her back legs. They had to be painful for her, but every time I would try to get near her to work on them, she freaked. Then I realized the the mats were actually large globs of poop - yes, poop - that had gotten stuck in her britches. Ugh. So last Sunday I said, "We're going to do this or you're going to have to go to a groomer and get your butt shaved." Hayley just looked at me sullenly from her rocking chair.
I got my hair scissors and closed the library door behind me. It' a small room, so she didn't have many places to go. When she jumped up on the table, I pounced on her, turned her around so her head was butted into my stomach, held her down with one hand, and lifted her huge tail with the other. Oh crap - now I need a third hand to hold the glob and a fourth to work the scissors. FAIL.
Determined not to have to spend fifty precious dollars on a groomer, I went upstairs and got the biggest bath towel I could find. I have one of those nifty kitty straitjackets, but it's the small size and only fits Peek-A-Boo, who weighs only five pounds. I guess I need to get a large one.
Back with the bath towel, I locked us in the library again. When Hayley jumped up on the table, I threw the towel on top of her and wrapped her up like a giant burrito, turned her around and laid my upper body on top of her. Now I was able to lift the tail with one hand and work on the globs with the other. With her screaming the whole time, I managed to get the dang things out. What a mess!
As soon as I let her go, she waddled away like nothing happened.