Our cat, Nigel, had become so matted that it seemed easier to pop out and buy a brand-new one than to bother grooming the old beast. Still, since hes not exactly a stranger in the family, we decided he deserved a second chance. We mulled it over and settled on shaving him. Otherwise, it wouldnt be long before his paws were permanently welded to his tummy with tangles.
As it turns out, while Ive been endlessly churning out children, the pet grooming industry has taken on a life of its own over here. You can choose a lion cut, go all puma, or even ask for a bespoke, patterned mohawk. There are fivecount them, fivedifferent tail styles to pick from. You can even kit out your cats claws with silicone sheaths! That way, the sofa is saved. Andwait for itthe sheaths come in a whole variety of colours! Bling for your feline, anyone? Someone will even glue on rhinestones if you fancy your moggy looking extra posh.
You can summon a grooming expert at any hour. Should a desperate need seize you at 3am to give your cat a new look, help is just a phone call away; simply select your tail flair and off they trot. I adore this country for things like thatsomewhere in the depths of suburbia, there are folk in their slippers, phone in hand, clippers charged and ready (brrrrrm brrrrrrrm…), eagerly awaiting your distress call. Nigel, West Ham, urgent appointment!
A young woman arrivedher hair, I must say, was half-shaved in a pattern that wouldve put a modern artist to shame. She seized our matted mog, and in ten minutes flat, reshaped him into a Yorkshire terrier. Turns out, Nigel actually has legs! Previously, wed thought he was half fox from the front and half rabbit from the rearthats how much the fur masked. Now, hes as soft as suede. The best bit? It feels like weve acquired a brand-new animal. The old Nigel could be utterly infuriating at times. Hed lurk until Id finally, finally wrangled the kids into bed, then launch into his signature bass yowl (MMMRROOOOW, MMRROOOOW…), summoning me to discoverdelight!that hed trekked something nasty out of the litter tray on his furry trousers and left it right in my path. So there I stood: the dead of night, kids howling, and Id have to wash my feet, scrub the floor, clean the cat, wrestle the kids back to bed all while covered in filth, both literally and emotionally.
More than once, I remarked to David when he got home from work, Ive killed the cat. He believed me! But now, with his new look, this is practically a stranger. Hes done nothing to annoy us. Yet. A blank slate! Honestly, Im beginning to think the whole family should be shorn on a regular basis. Imagineeveryone fresh and suede-like, civil and tentative, unsure how to interact. No need to fork out for a therapist or marriage counselorjust shave everyone!
And you simply must time your shearing for just before winter. Nigel the cat has become ever so affectionatewithout a stitch of fluff, its cold out there, and the best blanket in the house is…
