Charles' Hygiene Perturbs Me

Charles doesn't have bad hygiene. Except for his soul-withering halitosis, his hygiene is exceptionally good. It's not good in that irritating way when people look like they're constantly spraying themselves with the mists of purity. Charles doesn't actually look intimidatingly clean. It's good in the way that it knows no bounds, which is to say that it is bad. For example, Charles has this horrifying habit where at any moment, in any company, he may suddenly begin to lick his own asshole. I hope I don't seem fixated on Charles' asshole, but it is pretty hard to ignore, especially with that one hind leg sticking straight up in the air like an offensive salute. This is easier to understand when you remember that cat's have miniature cow tongues, like scuffed up fan belts, but still, does he not have any taste buds? Charles doesn't merely content himself with his asshole, either. He licks his entire body. I don't blame him for this, I would lick my body if it didn't feel so sticky after. But one of the important differences between me and Charles is that he is entirely covered with hair and I am only partially covered with hair. I personally cannot stand the sensation of even one single hair on my tongue, especially cat hair. I hate it more than getting my socks wet or chewing on tin foil. I cannot conceive of how unpleasant it must be to drag your tongue in long, decisive licks across millions and millions of cat hairs, letting them build up at the back of your throat until finally you swallow them, and then, when you've swallowed enough, gagging them back up again in the form of a ball. But that preening bastard just loves it. I just wish he wouldn't do it with such relish.