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*Have you tried combing her hindquarters?*

The nurse in the veterinary practice asked me with a frown.

*Ummm...*

I looked at her with a confused air as if she had asked me to play billiards, *Spanish style.*

She nodded keenly at me then jerked her head at my cat, *Shady* who was sitting on my lap calmly as is she wasn't normally a hissing ball of rage and claws.

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I looked at her and then the cat in bewilderment. 

*Um, she has all this matted stuff on her fur around her tail?*

I ventured, thinking that perhaps this lady of the green uniform and whiff of *Eau de Chat* might have misunderstood the reason for my visit.

*Yes, I get that.* 

She took Shady from me and stood her on the examining table.

Shady was remarkably docile. I watched her carefully, in these kinds of situations she was liable to turn into a furry T-Rex of horror and somehow it was often me that got savaged the worst. 

Maybe she still harboured a grudge about that time I dressed her up as a St Trinians Schoolgirl and posted her photo on Twitter? 

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*Do you have a comb?*

The Vet Nurse asked whilst fingering my pussy on the table.
*<sub>SORRY! couldn't resist!</sub>*

I eyed *nursey-nurse* as if she was an old vinegary smelling loaf.

*A comb? Of course, I have a comb, look at my lustrous mane of hair?*

I ran a hand through my thick and luscious locks.

*Not a comb for you. A comb for your cat...? A cat comb?*

She said still prodding and poking my cat, now mostly around the *chuff.*

*Like this?*

The *lion whispering* nurse produced a metal toothed comb and began to vigorously comb my delightful little cat's *bottom bush.* 

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The matted bits of fur after an initial struggle began to give way under her stern assault.

*I do. I do have such a comb somewhere, I believe.*

I nodded slowly.

*Well. Have you tried combing her hindquarters?*

The nurse asked again, still fiddling with my cat's filthy old exhaust.

I looked blank and shrugged whimsically.

The nurse put her comb down and took a deep breath before sighing it out patiently.

*Ok. I will put it another way. Have you tried combing your cat's arse?*

She said through ever so slightly gritted teeth.

*What?! Eeewww?! Why the fuck would I do that? I love my little cat?!*

I flinched back in disgust at the foul mouthery of the nurse. 

*Nursey McBigbaws* shook her head sadly. 

*Never mind. That's her done. You can pay at the front desk.*

She handed me my floppy, docile but very well-combed, cat.

Minutes later I was outside bundling my little angel cat into the boot of the car when my phone rang. It was the Good Lady.

*So, Daddy-Bear, did they fix Shady?*

She asked hopefully.

*Heck, yeah, baby girl. She did suggest we comb her arse though?*

The Good Lady made a *humphy* mouth breathing noise of disgust. 

*Eeww, the filthy boot.*

She muttered in disapproval.

I slammed the car-boot closed on a perfectly arse-combed cat.

*Exactly lass, exactly.*