Cat

Cat was far too furry.

His winter coat was full of mats, burrs, tangles and general mess for him to be comfortable anymore. He refuses to clean himself, expecting we humans to keep him brushed... after which he runs outside and rolls about, in complete disgust over the idea someone's tried to his job for him.

Nothing like a 30lb Cat who is pissed off at you. Thankfully, he's fairly settled for the scissoring, the picking out of mats and the eventual shaving. He'll stay sitting for a long period of time, and then he does let you know he's bored, so, the entire process takes a good week.

He produces enough hair to weave yarn to make an blanket. We've cut perhaps 1/3 of his fur, and the pile was as high as his leggy legs are long. I say cut, mostly, it's hacked away at for now, trying to shorten it enough to use the scary noisy clippers. Vidal Sasson, we're not.

Poor Frank, neurotic as ever, hovered outside, forgetting he can't fit in through the cat flap, was worried he was next. Actually, Frank worries about everything, so, I can't be sure it was the shearing of Cat that was on his nerves.





We'll be working at this for a few days more... I'll post the final photo soon. Currently, Cat is avoiding us and the comb used to tease out his intense tangles and the scary noise making clippers, walking about with one eye out for us.

And shedding as he goes.







Our Neville Fact



Margaret has been away for a week at Flick's, helping out while Flick recovers from a spill in the jumping ring. During this time, Neville has had the lads over, playing snooker and smoking cigars. One night, Simon Basington dropped his cigar on Margaret's prized rug, burning a noticeable hole. Since then, Neville has been working on how to explain the hole, since cigar smoking is banned outside his man room. He's currently leaning towards saying aliens, but, doubts this is going to actually work.