Tuesday, September 17, 2013

iron, like a lion, in Zion

This is an email from a friend's sister, concerning a true household crisis: 
Just listened to a voicemail from the cat groomer who Bob met this morning when he dropped Archie off for a 9 AM appointment. The drop-off alone left Bob speechless but not as much as her message left me without words, "Archie is primped, polished and primed in front of the birdcage ready for pickup when you are. Your photo album of Archie head shots is also ready and included in today's visit."
It seems that Archie, the family cat, is shitting all over the shag rug in Bob's home office. Their family veterinarian suggested that ol' Archie be groomed because sometimes the accidents happen when long hair is matted around the anal area. (But, of course you knew that. Everyone knows that! It's common knowledge, right? Who among us hasn't completed extensive studies of the feline anal area?)

Not knowing where to begin, Sister had to find a place that would groom a cat. Petsmart, the national chain of pet supply stores, wanted no parts of it. So, on recommendation, the family took Archie to an establishment in the affluent Philadelphia suburb of Paoli called "The Main Lion." This is a "cats only" salon.

And this is what The Main Lion did to Archie:

Archie is ready for his close-up, Mr. DeMille.

Sometimes, I'm embarrassed to be white.

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