Four months. That's how long she's been living under the bed and behind the chair. Every week or two I corner her in the kitchen and inspect her. Make sure all of her orifices are clean and clear and brush her a little. She hisses and cringes. Makes me want to pinch her head off. I took this picture an hour ago after just such a bout of growling and shedding and all around ill-temperament. I don't know why she ran to the computer desk. Why she thought it was the best place to hide. Because obviously I was a foot away from her and Jesus knows I'm the anti-Christ and I eat kitty cats for breakfast.