Friday, December 21, 2012

Smell of the Tree

All cats have a smell, and I don't mean the one they use to identify each other. It's fun to bury your nose in your cat's fur and take a whiff. I do this with all three boys but Wendy won't let me close enough.

I began sniffing cats with the orange tiger I gave my parents when I was in college, Harald. He smelled fresh and outdoorsy because he spent a lot of time in the shrubbery and grass around our house. He smelled especially great when he was wet with rain.

Snalbert's fur had a nice, clean, healthy scent, quite surprising since his breath was horrible. I'd gasp for air when he'd sit beside my chair, chattering away and yawning in my direction. But even toward the end, the rest of him smelled lovely. I miss his peachy Persian double coat.

Possum's fur barely has a scent at all. He smells like warmth. This is odd, since he could use a bath.

Toffee's back fur smells a bit like cat food because he keeps getting splattered while stealing from the other cats' bowls. If I sniff his belly, he smells very faintly of woodsmoke, which makes no sense since we don't use our fireplaces. On the other hand, I have caught him going behind the fireplace screens to investigate, so that must explain it.

Harris smells like one of those stuffed balsam cats from Maine. It's not a strong scent, so he smells like a really old one; I have a couple from college. This is an "adorability" aspect I missed about him until yesterday. I couldn't believe it when I sniffed his head. It's from our tree, for sure, but I prefer to think it's his natural Norwegian Forest Cat cologne.

Harris, endearing and sweet in every way.

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