...Er, um, Hello!

My name is Augustus. I have parents. Sometimes life can be difficult. I possess the great skill of being able to charm the socks off of anyone who chances to spot me, a rare occurrence indeed. [The spotting, that is; not the charming!]
However, for you, Dear Reader, I am prepared to divulge my deepest thoughts and perspective of the world, mostly because if I don't tell somebody what is going on around here, I am going to pop!
But be warned, proceed with caution: Living with Mummy and Dad can be rather harrowing at times...

Saturday, February 2, 2013

My New ‘Do

I have been styled!

This morning I was in the Grande Bathing Room (the one that houses the infamous bathtub beneath which I have been known to find respite from pursuing Mummy’s bent on vengeance for the odd broken something or other), watching Mummy work on her maniacal hair. I say maniacal for her hair is something to behold, not unlike mine - a bit wild with a mind of its own (one may recall the Mat Incident last year when, as a result of much trimming on the part of Mummy, Dad bestowed upon me the telling sobriquet “Buzz”). Mummy’s hair, therefore, must be tamed! And to do so apparently requires the combined effort of a couple of hot irons and a vast array of creams, gels, lotions and sprays, not to mention several minutes of beneath-the-breath grumbling, some words of which may not be suitable for mixed audiences (I merely mention it).

It is the last item on the list of potions which worked its magic on me this lovely morning as I gazed upward through the flailing arms and blowing tresses. Content to stare listlessly while Mummy worked, I was caught unawares by a hissing noise immediately followed by a fall out of some cold, sticky substance. It landed on my nose and made me sneeze. Mummy said she was sorry then tried to fluff my fur but it stuck out and remained. I adjusted my position, not fully realizing the extent of the damage, then caught a glimpse of my coat in the mirror. What a mess! And the more Mummy tried to relieve me of the veil of niffiness, the more my fur stood out. The worst of it was Mummy had to leave so was unable to do anything by way of rectifying her fell deed for the nonce.

So now I am mucking about the place looking like a lion whose mane has come unhinged. I did make a feeble attempt at cleaning my fur but it did not taste very nice; the realization that it could wait until Mummy gets home settled over me like a contented fog. Glancing one last time in the mirror, I see that it isn’t so bad after all. Indeed, it does not hurt to change up one’s look every now and then – it keeps others guessing what you are up to! One simply must remember to return things to store after the novelty wears off. 

Or, as in this case, the hairspray.

1 comment:

  1. Too funny, Gussie. Wish we could see a picture of your new style! :)