The pain of fur

Mr Perkins’ nether regions get mighty matted, especially when he rampages through the burr bush. Mr Perkins’ reluctance to have his tummy combed/brushed does not help.

I took his comb and the hairdressing scissors to it this afternoon. A blipper with the fluffiest blip-cat suggested grabbing the scruff of his neck firmly to induce helpless-kitten mode. I thought I’d give it a whirl – what could possibly go wrong?

Mr Perkins does not have helpless-kitten mode. He has vaguely tolerant mode, where his manic eyes fix you in malevolence, and ravage-your-hands mode. The fur in the photo is the result of the former; I won’t show you the result of the latter, but I might show you the scar once it’s healed.