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Bad hair day

They say your hair is your crowning glory and I must admit to a secret pride in my silky locks, which bring me all sorts of compliments. They are kept in trim by my humans who give me a good brush most days, usually in front of the fire at the end of a long day’s running around.

It’s quite surprising what can be found in my coat, especially the long feathers. Thorns, twigs, leaves and even the odd ladybird on occasion have been found and brushed out.

It was, however, something of a shock the other night when, after a few minutes of uncomfortable brushing, I heard the words: “Heavens, she’s a mess. Get me the scissors.”

It turned out that romping through the fields earlier that day I had unwittingly covered myself, from ears to tail and between my claws, in thistle-like burrs that had got matted in my fur and were impossible to remove with fingers and a brush.

I had to submit to having all my pretty curls cut off, which was uncomfortable as well as undignified, and I can’t tell you how sad I felt to see the fur dropping off around me on the floor. I decided to forego my usual cuddle for a long sulk in my bed where I did my best to lick the remainder of my coat into the best state I could manage.

I know my fur will grow back quite quickly but I have decided to avoid running around the big field. I’ve had enough of hairy situations for a while!


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