It is late summer and tis the season of burs. The cat attracts those little buggers like a carcass attracts flies.
Every time she walks in the back door she has 5 to 10 burs hidden discretely about her furry person. I could leave her to do her own bur-removal. She is a capable and dedicated groomer. But where would you like her to leave the burs? In bed? On the carpet? The sofa?
Not good options, people.
I chose instead to become her official bur-removal artiste. This involves running my hand all over her little bod, particularly the tail, tummy and legs, and pulling them out with as little extra fluff as possible.
She generally tolerates a certain amount of it. If she has any deeply buried ones or the count is high, then it becomes a squirmy biz with the occasional nip. I speak firmly, she looks mildly regretful at best and we move on with our lives.
As for location of the operation, anywhere is fine as long as I am near a bin. You will be pleased (or in fact completely disgusted) to know that if I do it while sitting on the loo, I wash my hands in the adjacent sink several times during the process..
Who would have thought that adjacency of the sink and the loo is a handy criteria in bathroom design? It is hard to anticipate the range of things you may do on the loo. I went from nothing at all except the usual (BC - before children) to hugging children, looking at bumps, doing up frocks, patting the cat, fixing hair, and now, de-burring.
No wonder my first morning wee can take 10 minutes.