Hairy Mammoth (sort of)

Reading time: < 1 minute...

 

 

 

 

 

 

Imagine a hairy mammoth…err, a fiftieth of the size…smaller feet…a different colour…without tusks…sleeps on a bed and is definitely not extinct – and you have Bon-Bon our white Chinchilla (I’m beginning to think the mammoth analogy wasn’t the best choice!). She’s a fluffy bundle of a cat who, over the past week-or-so, has suddenly tripled in volume, as her winter coat goes through what seems like an uncontrollable growth phase. Maybe it was the recent cold weather, maybe she sneaked off to that hair specialist in Harley Street – who knows?

Anyway, the result is a big, big, BIG, bugger of a cat, who by virtue of her temperament, won’t come within 100 metres of a comb (unless the one combing her fancies losing their eyes, ears, arms and other precious bits!). She can also smell a pair of scissors from a kilometre away!

So, time for some drastic action two weeks ahead of her normal scheduled wash-and-brush-up – and that means a short drive to our regular cat-hero, Patsy in Rushden, for the new 2012 Olympic sport known as extreme-grooming.

Biscuit, gets to accompany her sister for a similar experience (lucky cat!) and although her fur hasn’t grown quite as much, she’s still in need of a good brush. She’s also a bit more tolerant of this grooming lark – but not much!

Chain-mail gloves and goolie-protectors are standard equipment in this house – luckily we always have some in the bedroom, within handy reach!