Recently, I took up cat grooming as a hobby. The long-haired cat I inherited from my sister was starting to get that dirty hippie look, and besides the expense of taking the animal to a professional groomer, the local groomer is a little heavy-handed with the sedatives. He came home with the strung out on bennies look, and then progressed to the had a stroke look, and finally the oh, I don’t think that eye was quite that weepy before look.
We are not going back.
Still, something has to be done–at least for hygienic reasons–so I got myself a pair of clippers and hoped for the best.
You can take time with your own pet, and I did.
One cat. Four days.
I’m not doing the legs or tendon-y bits. Those are above my skill grade.
But very slowly and carefully, and with lots and lots of breaks and encouragement in between… I hit my cleanliness goal, and my cat with a haircut goal.
And not only is the animal still on speaking terms with me, he hears the clippers and comes running.
I’m grateful for his enthusiasm.
(Yes. He has been bribed. I don’t see your point.)