A Cat Mom’s Life: Easy-breezy Butt Shave Edition

One Saturday morning, a pal and I were doing something I never imagined doing: shaving my cat’s butt. I was prepared for the worst: traumatic for him and worse for me for putting him through it.

Espresso is a total furball, and hygiene shaves are now part of our routine.

Source: J. Pallanich

I’ll save you the suspense. It was a breeze. In a moment, I’ll tell you how we did this. (I wish I had set up my phone to video the whole encounter but it just didn’t occur to me.)

First, I need to explain why we did this.

Espresso is a long-haired cat, about 18 months old when this happened. And like many long-haired felines, he gets the occasional dingleberry. Gross, right?

But one Thursday, he set a record.

By a lot.

That evening after dinner, he hopped into his litterbox, assumed his poop stance, and moments later turned around to bury it but couldn’t find it. He left the box and walked away, only to return a few minutes later.

Again, the poop stance.

Again, the turning to cover the scat.

Again, there was nothing.

He looked baffled. If cats scratched their heads in confusion, he would have been doing so.

About 5 minutes later, he jumped up next to me and nuzzled my face. It was sweet. A moment later, this … aroma wafted at me as I was petting him. He smelled like poop, and like an idiot I stuck my hand back there.

Warm nuggets. Four of them. Entangled in his fur.

Ignoring the disgust, I managed to liberate those well-formed nuggets, then spent the better part of five minutes scouring my hands. Of course, I had to text one of my cat friends the whole story.

After she stopped laughing, she suggested we team up to give him a hygienic shave.

I agreed immediately, thinking he may look a little different, but at least neither of us would ever have to go through that again.

Two days later, she showed up at my place with a wonderfully quiet pet shaver, and we talked through how to approach the deed.

• Plan A: distract with Churu.

• Plan B: use a towel.

Fortunately we didn’t need Plan B.

We did such a good job with shave #1 that #2 was a cake walk.

Source: J. Pallanich/Pawsome Pet Pal

I held him gently and fed him a bunch of Churus while she buzzed off the fur. Three or four minutes later, it was all done with no fuss and no drama. Because he’d handled that novel and intrusive situation like such a champ, he got a little more Churu.

One of the best things about this experience is that when he next needs a hygienic shave, he won’t have negative associations with the razor or the process. As long as there’s Churu flowing from the tube and we are both gentle, the little guy probably won’t object to a repeat shave down in a couple of months.

Think about the grooming tasks you have to carry out on your pet. Are they chances to better bond? If they are things you avoid because your pet doesn’t enjoy them, please consider rethinking how you approach them, or seeking the advice of a trainer to help turn you turn potential grooming fiascos into good experiences for you both.