After several suggestions from several friends that I should write about my experience the other night, I decided they are right, I should share this story. Maybe save a life. One of my very loved friends said that if I should attempt this little episode in my life again, she wants to video it. She is sure she’ll win the top prize on that show about the funniest home video’s. And she’s right, she would win.
I have this adorable cat that loves me so much. His name is Gibson. And Gibbers. Or BooBoo. I love him too, most of the time. When he insists that he sleep ON me, all 20 pounds of him, I don’t like him very much. Or when I leave a very clean and very black sweater on my bed and come home to find he slept on it all day, I don’t like him then either. The shedding is the worst for me. I can almost tolerate the teeny little pieces of litter that are scattered around my house, but the cat hair, hell no!!! I hate it. Cannot stand it!!
So I started taking him to the groomers. At first I was a bit concerned that he would go into crazy cat mood as soon as the trimmers were turned on. He did not. In fact he turned into a cat that I didn’t know. He sat on the groomers table, like a good boy. I scruffed his neck but I probably didn’t really need to. He left me stand him up on his hind legs so his belly could get buzzed, he was not fond of that but he did not put up a fight. He wasn’t too fond of his tail being buzzed either, or his butt, but the deed was done without incident.
After the second trip to the wonderful talented groomer, she decided it would be bath time on his next visit! I pretty much told her she was nuts and that this absolutely would not be tolerated by him. Gibson proved me wrong again. Understand, he was not happy about it, but he did not fight it. He meowed at the top of his lungs. He looked at me with the most pathetic eyes I have ever seen. But he stood in the tub and was shampoo’d. I was amazed. And I was disappointed that I didn’t have my camera.
So after three times to the vet, I decided I was tired of dishing out $60 a visit for this cat that manages to bother me but also has a soft spot in my heart. I get the bright idea that I can do this myself. How difficult can it be right? Off to WalMart I go, I buy a cheap trimmer and head home for the experience of my life. Seriously.
After I unpacked the trimmer, I found the smallest guard and put it on the trimmer. Sat on the floor, plugged it in and turned on. Gibs couldn’t wait to come check it out . He wasn’t afraid of it at all. I made a few swipes down his back and he was in heaven. He stood still, I didn’t have to hold him, he stretched against the trimmer with every swipe down his back. By now I’m thinking this is a freakin piece of cake!!! Except the guard was still too long, I really wasn’t getting too much hair. So I took the guard off. Made one swipe down his back and Gibson stretched into the trimmer again and I made a bald spot. Shit! I’ll be more careful. Umm…I did it again.
Now he starts batting the guard across the kitchen floor and he’s chasing it. I eventually get him back make few more swipes and a few more bald spots. He runs again. By the time I bring him back the third time, he’s starting to show a slight sign of low patience with me, and a temper. He runs again. I gave him a little break before scooping him up again. This is when all hell broke loose. I stood him up so I could get his belly. Stupid on my part apparently, he was pissed. Started growling at me. Tried to run. But I had a grip on him. Which he didn’t like as he demonstrated by biting me. So I kinda held him closer to me, thinking I could calm him and I started making short fast swipes to get as much as I could. I never saw such a temper! He bites me again. I switch sides, this time using my left hand. Which was completely hilarious on my part, I couldn’t manuever the damn trimmer to save my life. Literally to save my life, because Gibson had enough, he was DONE. It was an all out fight! He dug his claws in my legs. The meowing was hideous. Okay, now I’m done.
I’m covered in cat hair, remarkably I have no blood from the bites, and only a few claw marks. Funny thing is, tonight when I picked him up, well, he’s still pissed. Although he did snuggle up to me last night while I was sleeping. I felt so bad for him that I didn’t make him move, I just rubbed his pissy little head.
So, my lesson learned was, I am not a cat groomer. Never will be a cat groomer. And should never ever entertain the thought of changing careers and becoming a cat groomer. My cat looks like he has the mange.
Trip to the groomer=$60, Trip to WalMart to buy human trimmers=$10, Thinking I can groom the cat=PRICELESS
Cheers!
Kartwheels in the Kitchen 