The aftermath

Sorry I didn’t get back last night. There was far too much on the TV and half midnight by the time I finished being goggle-eyed. Teachers, some forensics thing on CH5 and then Boomtown, which seems to still be good but has changed the way it “works”. Hmm.

Anyway. Cat. Scissors. Scary.

I let Kim do the cutting while I held KitKat down. This proved to be much harder than I expected it to be. She really doesn’t like people messing with her back end (KitKat, not Kim, though Kim might. I don’t know about that).

Grabbing her scruff, no problem. Keeping her still initially, no problem. Only when she’s flat on the sofa there’s no way to get at the hair round her back end so we had to dangle her over the edge of the sofa. This is OK, apart from the natural reaction when you “scruff” a cat and lift it up… the tail tucks up and runs up their belly. So when I put her down, the tail’s tucked between her legs – exactly where we don’t want it.

So, I’ve got a cat’s scruff, I’m forcing her shoulders onto the couch, trying to pull her tail out from underneath her. This bit, at least, is just awkward. Then the scissors come into the equation.

She’s fine until the end of each *snip*. At the point when the scissor blades come together she starts to struggle. The tail flicks, the back legs start to kick and she had a bloody good go at squirming out from under my hand.

No real danger to either of her two amateur barbers, but it’s hard to trim hair when there are paws and tail flying close to the scissors. Someone suggested using a towel, but she seems to have some kind of phobia. If she so much as sees a towel, she’s off and hissing. I’m guessing this has been tried in the past with little success. And much bloodletting.

Anyway, we managed to get some hair off, but not a whole lot. Frankly, I’d rather knock her out and shave it but that would only lead to far too many disgusting jokes from you lot so I won’t bother.

She did seem OK once we let her go, though, which surprised me. She even stretched out next to me and snuggled while I was watching Boomtown. So I’m either forgiven or being lulled into a false sense of security.

Cat. Female. It’ll be the latter. I await shit in my bed.

3 thoughts on “The aftermath”

  1. and shoes
    and hats
    and bottom of the wardrobe
    and in your beanbag…

    “Cat. Scissors. Scary.”

    Had Mr Duck popped along to help out then? I don’t know, one hint of a pussy trimming and he’s up the motorway before you can blink

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