“What sort of time do you call this?”
“Lunch was due to be served 90 minutes ago!”
“Starving we are!”
“Weak from hunger!”
“And anxious over what may have happened to you.”
(Oh, very anxious!)
“So disappointed in you.”
“A New Year and this is how you start?”
“As chief shop steward I am registering a grievance.”
“Where were you, anyway?”
“Take it up with the Man, Dee Dee! It’s all his fault!”
He dragged me from the house on so foul a day!
The Man had a mission. It was time for a haircut.
It has been three years and I’ll allow that there may have been room for improvement, but I’ve been quite happy snipping and shaving bits here and there.
Who cares what my hair looks like? Waste of money, I protested.
Now, his hair gets seriously bad because he makes no attempt to tame it.
“It’s too wild!” he says and shoves it under a hat.
Anyway, the Man decided it was time to shape up and as long as he was going, so must I.
Alright, alright. I sat in the car muttering.
“Not necessary. Dragged out in this foul weather, bullying old women, etc etc.”
I had been persuaded to make appointments online which I did on my old iPad and the response had been a bit vague. So when we got there, only one appointment had registered.
“All yours!” I declared, gleefully.
But as there was no-one else around…
If I was going to get it cut I figured it may as well be short because it grows so fast.
So we got almost matching haircuts.
I could hear my mother’s reproachful wail: “You look like a boy!” Just as well she cannot see me now!
On a Rock-hopper Penguin, it’s a good look.
On a super-annuated human face, not so much.
“But it will grow out evenly and with shape.”
Well I won’t have to waste time straightening it.
Any when soon.
“And” I thought, “at least I won’t have to fend Toby off, since I have no hair he can seize hold of”.
No such luck. He cannot get enough of the new do.
It’s as if my head is a new sort of cat-scratcher.
The sort they shred.
As I pointed out, the Man has the same new arrangement on his head.
Wouldn’t Toby like to share his attentions around?
“No, no. I like your bed better. Not so much competition.”
That’s true, although Patches arrives at a similarly early hour to groom my face. This morning I had not yet managed to discourage the boy, so Patches arrived splat in the middle of our struggle and there was nearly a cat fight in my face.
Shut them out?
One does not shut cats out.
And Toby is old and frail. I will not be able to live with the eventual pain if I don’t give him everything he wants, whether it’s sitting on my keyboard or knoshing on my head.
Though I must find a tactful way of dealing with the latter.
“Tee hee hee! I love watching this show!”
“Don’t forget my nuts!”