Quill: What? Is it time for a snack?
Mom: No. Is that your floof on the floor?
Mom points to a largish tuft of white furs on the floor. Quill inspects with a sniff.
Mom: It was really a rhetorical question... Who else's floof would it be?
Quill: Maybe Mittens?
Mom: Mittens is a black cat, one who visits our porch and has never been in the house...
Quill: Maybe I had guests...
Mom: Hm. Looks like it's time for brushing and petromalt...
Quill: Yum, petromalt is tasty, but you better not be thinking your gonna run a brush through this floof. I got it covered Mom.