Reid found the cat’s comb in the bathroom this morning and wanted to comb Clio’s fur. The only problem was that Clio was on the main floor or maybe that was the first problem, since Pooka (as Reid calls Clio) doesn’t particularly enjoy being combed. Reid was undaunted and just called for her at the top of the stairs. Ken and I were in our bedroom and could hear, “Poooo-kaa, Poooo-kaaa! C’mere Pookie.” No cat appeared. And then in an enticing tone, “Meow-ee. Meow-ee!” Ken and I giggled but weren’t surprised that Clio resisted the tempting call.
Finally Reid came back to our bedroom and spoke to Leo who was laying at the foot of the bed. “This comb is not for you, Leo. It is for you sister.” (Reid uses “you” in place of “your” most of the time.) Leo gave her a sarcastic, break-my-heart look and squished his eyes closed again. It’s for the best that Reid doesn’t want to comb Leo; he is a bit of a grumpy cat sometimes.
My (husband’s) cat is horrified to even be sharing terrestrial space with the boys — I can only imagine his dismay if they tried to comb him! Does Clio let Reid pet her?