Mr. Fuzz and the Patio Furniture

My return flight from Tbilisi in 2007 was complicated by our three adopted Georgian cats, Mr. Fuzz, Vicksters and Snow Puff (all named by our children). Poor Snow Puff was killed by a speeding car a few months later, but Vicksters and Mr. Fuzz have proven remarkably adaptable to the mean streets of Bedford. Vicksters is sociable and has made friends in the neighborhood, but Mr. Fuzz is loyal and spends most of his time on the front porch.

I love having a cup of tea or dinner on the porch, watching the neighborhood go about its business, and my generous sister-in-law donated a set of patio furniture to the cause. Unfortunately, Mr. Fuzz likes the furniture as much as I do, and has a lot more time to spend rubbing his furry self all over the cushions. I have tried a number of strategies to ensure the human beings who want to sit on the porch don't have to sit in a nest of white cat hair, but none of them have been successful. My most recent attempt was to drape the chair cushions in sheets and tablecloths, but these mismatched covers looked like laundry drying in the breeze from the street, reinforcing the "Beverly Hillbillies" look I have been trying studiously to avoid.

This morning I had a new inspiration, and draped the seats only in pillowcases that are less likely to fly around. I have some great fabric I bought in Africa two summers ago, so if this works, maybe I can recover the cushions and achieve that put-together, non-Granny Clampitt look I so covet.

Here is Mr. Fuzz, dirty as can be (he's really white!) enjoying a fresh new cover.