Jeff's Blind Dog Blog

At her mother's suggestion I gave her a break from packing and took her out to dinner.  It'd been a long time since we'd done that.  Her teen years, there were occasions where I would take her out for dinner or on a long drive so she and her mother wouldn't kill each other.  We would air out feelings, and we would talk about strange trivial things, and by the time we got home she'd be reasonably okay and Mom would be more calm.  As is, this time around everyone was calm. Maturity will do that to you.

So, there we were, in a nice new Mexican restaurant on Santa Fe, just talking about whatever came to mind, and the young lady starts talking about her psychotic cat Cuddles (go back to May's posts for a fun story about Cuddles), and she blurts out, "We tried to shave her a few days ago."

"You... what?"  I asked.

"We tried to shave her," she giggled.  "She didn't like it.  There's only a small spot.  The vet said they could shave her for us, but she'd have to be sedated..." 

There was more, but I don't remember it.  I just remember thanking God this couple had yet to bear children and asking Him to keep it from happening for a very, very long time.

But what sticks in my memory was the vet's office saying they could shave the cat for them. And all I can think about that is... why?!?

Barring lice, or an infected sore, or removing a tick, why for the love of Heaven would someone deliberately shave a cat?  

Can anyone enlighten me on this?  Because to me it sounds seriously ill.