Fluff’s haircut

The gripping tale of this morning.

First, Fluff is seized and thrust into his carry-basket by his guardian.

Then he is seat-belted into the car and driven, catnapped, along endless roads.

33% of the way to the groomer, Fluff produces a remarkably smelly poo.

Guardian finds a layby, manages to clear up the damage and drives on.

66% of the way to the groomer, Fluff regurgitates breakfast.

Guardian manages to find something vaguely resembling a layby, but not one that pleases passing drivers. Manages to clear up the the second lot of damage. Drives on.

At the groomer’s, guardian sips thankfully at cuppa while Fluff howls, squeals and vigorously objects to every inch of shaving and every flick of the comb. But now and then indicates he quite likes these people really. He looks so sweet when trimmed that he is photographed for the website.


Carry-basket is relined with clean liners, and Fluff inserted therein. He sits and smiles at us, then floods clean liner with considerably impressive amount of wee for a cat so resistant to drinking.

Liner removed and Fluff has to go home on his fortunately only slightly damp towel.

Fluff tongue


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