Poem by a fan Grooming With brush in hand I proceeded, the task was now in hand. A groomed cat was my mission, my tactics were well planned. Stealth was my intention, to sneak up close to start. I tip-toed there towards her with a pounding in my heart. One eye flickered open she saw my emerging form. The situation now was perilous, there was this furry storm! She shot right out the cat flap like a missile from a gun. My mission was aborted, The manoeuvre was undone. I decided to try again later, when things had quietened down. This feline was for grooming, no excuses would be found. We had an altercation, she wasn’t playing ball. That brush was now her nemesis, a calm before the fall. The next time was disastrous, she hissed and spat and clawed I only groomed two inches, before my hand was gored. She flicked her tail and sauntered off, she’d really made her mark. I’m done with grooming grumpy paws, blow that for a lark! So the grooming parlour it is! Teresa Harrison-Best Catawall Please visit Catawall Facebook page then like.
Posted on: Sun, 09 Jun 2013 22:28:08 +0000
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