Being a Cat Mom

Have you ever tried to cut your cat’s hair? I’m not particularly what you call “a cat person.” Okay, up until I owned a cat, I was the complete opposite. Don’t get me wrong, they’re still not my thing, but I love my barn cats. I’m allergic still but thankfully not nearly as bad as I was when I was a kid.

I have two barn cats that my kids have named Chips and Dips. And Dips is long-haired. These cats like attention and will sit on laps for some heavy petting. Here’s Chips chilling with Babe.


I’ve been bringing scissors around Dips and trying to cut some mats out here and there. It isn’t going as smoothly as I’d hoped (shocker), but at least it’s going more smoothly than I’ve imagined. I still have my face and fingers. So far. Being a cat mom is rough, but he tries to make up for it with his hunting skills.

Dips will sit still and close his eyes while I pet and brush and cut. But then, like a decisive little three-year-old, he determines he’s done. There is no finishing the job. Even mid cut. He lunges for the scissors to bite them while I hold my breath and try not to cut off a hunk of skin and fur. He’s slightly (read: majorly) spastic and his hair is always disheveled, blowing in the wind. And now he looks like he stuck his paw in a light socket. (Notice the chunks of hair missing?!) But, all of his skin is in tact and I have all my fingers.

So far.


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