The Vacuum Cleaner

I have an uneasy relationship with the vacuum cleaner.  Things disappear up its nose – dust, threads, old claws I’ve left by the scratching post.  Maybe it eats them.  I have never seen it digging so I wonder whether anything ever comes out the other end.  Most worryingly,  I’m not entirely sure whether F is directing it or fighting with it. 

It’s noisy.  It’s the sort of noise that suggests an encounter with it is going to hurt.  I’m not big on running away, so for ages we edged around one another, me and the vacuum cleaner.  It goes along the floor. Ttherefore, if  I was in one of my boxes, or on a chair it would go around or under me – an uneasy truce.

One day it tried to disappear me up its nose.  It caught me napping on the spare bed.  I froze.  (Like I said ‘I’m not big on running away.’)  I discovered two things that day: (1) I don’t fit up its nose – well my tail does but my tail remained attached to me, and (2) it sucks a lot of air through my fur and takes away the loose stuff when I’m moulting. 

Evidently it only eats loose fur, not whole cats, but it might be trying to lull me into a false sense of security before pouncing.

Despite my misgivings I’ve decided that I quite like having my back rubbed by the vacuum cleaner’s nose.  I still wish it didn’t make that disconcerting noise, but at least it can’t sneak up on me.