Overly furry felines

Does anyone really believe that the Sphynx cat came into being through a natural genetic mutation? I think not. Here's my theory on what happened: a mad scientist (mad as in angry, not crazed) whose favourite movie as a child was ET came downstairs the morning after the day he or she had a loveseat covered in chocolate microfabric delivered and discovered that his or her cat named Charlotte had fallen in love at first sight with said loveseat and had spent the night rubbing shamelessly up against it and now it was covered in white fur and then and there he or she decided to insert the gene causing alopecia areata universalis into Charlotte. He or she is probably surprised the denuded cat look never really caught on, particularly among people with furniture. I guess most humans find bald cats creepy or are afraid the cat is suddenly going to ask to phone home. My advice to the mad scientist would have been to insert the chameleon gene into Charlotte's DNA instead. If furniture must suffer the unwanted attention of shameless hussy cats, at least let it be smothered in fur of the same colour.

Beware of falling uteri

In search of some diversion at work on Friday afternoon, I went to talk to, oh, let's call her Dee, and Maureen, who, contrary to her photo, is not a frumpy pretentious busybody. Did you know your uterus can fall out? Dee threw out as a conversation starter. Maureen and I got a bit hysterical, an appropriate reaction when discussing uteri (particularly falling ones). It's true, Dee insisted, my sister told me. (Dee is the person whose aunt and uncle told her that their daughter graduated from the Disney University with a law degree. I think Dee should carry around a salt shaker so that she can ingest a teaspoon at every utterance her relatives make.) Oh, you mean a prolapsed uterus, said Maureen, when she had finally recovered enough to speak coherently. Usually I find medical terminology rather offputting, but in this case a prolapsed uterus sounded much less worrisome than the thought of having to check at the Lost and Found for a wayward uterus. Or needing to put an ad in the local newspaper: Lost sometime on Sunday Feb. 1 on Princess Street, one ageing uterus. Sentimental value, reward offered. We started discussing options like a uterus sling or an internal alarm that would sense uterine movement and start beeping when a fall was impending, giving the wearer time to flip into a handstand to avoid embarrassment. Maureen was laughing so much I think it caused her uterus to slip a bit, and she left the room to discreetly check that it hadn't fallen out. Meanwhile I, having found my sought-after diversion, tottered back to my office, thighs squeezed tightly together.