"Daddy, your feet smell like Rice Krispies Treats.
And they have lots of blisters on them.
Are blisters contagious?"
So said Pigtails tonight as we crashed to watch the boob tube. There's a new couch in town, shaped like an "L", and my crusty stubs ended up by her head. Surprised she said they smell of RKT's and not rotting squirrels.
New chesterfield (gracias, Thesaurus.com) replaces the old green striped filth I had for 15 years. When married, we had a cat named Elijah. Eli would lift his tail and slide his butt down the armrests, using them like textile toilet paper. Other than years' worth of cat ass cootie build-up on the sides, it was in good shape. Gave it away via the classifieds, I forgot to tell the gentleman to avoid the armrests and perhaps go ahead and burn them off.
IKEA Karlstad in gray now coddles my scrawny butt. I hope Karlstad is not Swedish for "greasy cat cheeks." This big beast came in pieces, took some time to hammer together, but it turned out nice. Replaced the birch legs with nickel steel to tap into the techno gray and black basement. Fabric has a rough weave to it, perfect for absorbing Rice Krispies Treats odors wafting from my hooves.
Build a couch: