A number of years ago I heard a story about a family who, upon opening the clothes dryer to remove clothing, discovered their pet cat had met its demise in the permanent press cycle. My mind rejected the notion of it because it was too horrible to think about. “How could anyone not notice their cat in the dryer?” I said in disbelief. No. It couldn’t happen. No, no, no. However, life has a way of teaching me lessons and I now know that it could happen. Quite easily in fact.
For some reason Pudgy’s curiosity puts her in dangerous situations that drive me a bit insane, but don’t bother her in the least. I’ve mentioned in a past blog that she has been stepped on, squished in the refrigerator door, and has fallen off the top of the stairs. More recently I thought my husband may have broken her leg when he forcefully closed his dresser drawer while failing to notice Pudgy was checking out the contents. She limped around for a day, but quickly recovered.
Somehow she must have sensed my cat fears concerning the clothes dryer and is trying to torture me. We have a standard top-loading washing machine and a standard front-loading dryer. As I pull clothes out of the washer I stand upright, and then I bend as I toss the wet clothing into the dryer. Up and down, up and down I go. I can’t tell you how many times I just catch a shadow from the corner of my eye, or see a grey tip of a tail moving as I’m about to shut the dryer door and start the load. Pudgy, for reasons I cannot fathom, goes deep inside the dryer and sits there. It’s not warm—yet—so that can’t be it. The clothes are wet so I’d think she’d be repulsed, but no. A death wish? Maybe.
Now I have to look around and find her before I can start the dryer. It’s becoming a fixation, and I think she’s secretly laughing about it. Nonetheless, having a living unfluffed-Pudgy in my life is glorious, and continues to be the best part of my day.