Every summer we take our long haired cat (who gets a long haired cat in Arizona? We do I guess.) to the groomers to get shaved. It's either that or she goes back to the animal shelter, I just can't take all the shedding. So today was the day, and I'll admit, we waited a little longer this year, in the hopes that we wouldn't have to do it. She is just a cat, you know, and that money could probably go to some better use. But with temperatures climbing above 110, she cannot keep up with grooming herself, and I can't keep up with all the extra vacuuming.
I picked her up this afternoon, and a man was there picking up his dog from the vet portion of the office. "Sounds like a diva cat to me," he snarked (is that a word? It seems to go so well here). If he only knew how undiva-ish our cat was. That's the nice thing about cats. I can feed her and give her water, change her litter box now and then (she mostly goes outside) and give her attention when I want to and when she wants to. In the hot summers here, that attention on both of our parts amounts to not much.
But still. I couldn't help but feel bad for her as I opened the kennel and she ran to hide. I know from past experience we won't see her at all for the rest of the day. And she looks ridiculous. If I was her, I wouldn't want any of the neighbor cats to see me until my fur grew back in.