Over the weekend I took up residence on Softie's lap. She has been feeling poorly and I have been trying to cheer her up and make her feel better.
She paid me back with a good long brushing, which I thoroughly enjoyed until she attacked me with the evil scissors. I let her clip me a little bit, but I drew the line at having my back legs clipped. I don't like anyone touching my legs--and she knows it!
Now I'm being threatened with being taken to a professional groomer, and I don't know what that means.