By popular request, Kitty Po–er, I won’t finish the last two letters in that word.
First, Tig, mostly asleep outside.
Next, Ms. Gracie, who has lately taken to jumping from chair to chair in an effort to get my attention while I’m blogging. It generally works.
So it’s a Tummy Tuesday Twofer!
And oh, yeah—they got flea goop on them today, so I also gave them tunafish. The whole can. It was definitely Tuna and Tummy Tuesday in this household.
Tig needs a haircut. He would lose five pounds.
No problem. You come over and try to give him one.
I’ll supply the bandages.
For you, not Tig.
He won’t need them.
I have a chain mail set of long gloves. ;-D
I would have to think about devising a system that would be humane to the cat as well as safe for the human. Perhaps one of those comb/trim things that give bad haircuts to men and boys can be modified so that a cat would experience something like being stroked. Trimming the tummy would be tough, though. Tig probably is very protective of what he no longer has.
chsw