
Today started as one of those easy summer days where nothing in particular is happening, but everything feels just right. We were out on the deck eating lunch, soaking up the warm weather, and I was mentally running through the list of chores I’d been happily ignoring. Somewhere between “do the dishes” and “fold the laundry,” it hit me: I really needed to spend some time grooming Bean, our big fluffy Maine Coon.

Grooming Bean is not my favorite chore. He absolutely hates being brushed, and he has so much fur. Normally I can keep up by working on him in small batches a couple of times a week, but this year his coat has been especially bad. I’m not sure if it’s the weather, his age, or just a heavier shed season, but he’s been getting matted more than usual, especially in those tricky spots where it’s hard for him to groom himself.

For the past few weeks I’ve been slowly working away at the mats, a little at a time, trying not to stress him out too much. Even so, every time I thought I was making progress, I’d find another tangle hiding along his sides or under his belly.

While we were talking about it, my husband casually asked why I didn’t just shave him. I immediately said I was nervous about doing it myself, and the groomer I talked to wanted over $400 to shave him down. That’s a lot of money for one cat haircut, even a very large, very fluffy one.

My son, however, had a different attitude. He was sure we could handle it ourselves. Before I could overthink it, I decided to be brave. I grabbed all my grooming supplies, the clippers, and, of course, the cat. I started on my own and was able to get a little done, but Bean wasn’t thrilled with the process and I definitely needed an extra set of hands. My son jumped in and we took turns—one of us holding and reassuring Bean while the other worked carefully with the clippers.

I’m not going to pretend the end result is show-ring perfect. There are a few slightly choppy spots, and he definitely looks a little funny if you catch him from the wrong angle. But you know what? We got rid of the mats, and that’s what really matters. Bean seems so much happier and more comfortable already. All that heavy fur can’t feel great when it’s hot out, especially when it’s pulling on his skin in tight clumps.

Now that he’s lighter and smoother, he’s moving around more easily and seems more relaxed when we pet him. I’m hoping this new short “summer style” will also cut down on the number of hairballs I find around the house. With less loose fur for him to swallow while grooming, maybe we’ll all get a bit of a break.

In the end, I’m really glad we went for it. It was a little nerve‑wracking to do it ourselves, but it saved a lot of money and, most importantly, Bean is more comfortable. Sometimes the spur‑of‑the‑moment decisions turn out to be the best ones—for both pets and their people.






Old School Black and White photos this time as I just finished off an old, lost and found roll of film







Stanley has been keeping me busy lately with agility classes, tricks, manners, and plenty of walks. Last week was the final class of this agility session, and we celebrated with agility games. The basic rules were simple and a little chaotic: race around the obstacles any way you want within a set time, but hit certain required obstacles along the way for points.
As thrilled as I am about his big “game night” success, I’m realizing how much the tiny, everyday moments matter just as much. The other day I came home, let him out of his crate, did the usual potty break, and then hit a wall. I just didn’t feel great and really needed a nap. Of course, as soon as I lay down, Stanley decided it was playtime. He bounced on the bed, nipped at my hands, and dug at the blankets while I silently begged the universe for twenty minutes of quiet.







Soon, Hector has her six month check up, so I’ll be sure to update after that.













Last night I was up way too late thinking about my little Stanley and his tummy. I kept coming back to the same picture: a gassy, slightly picky small dog who strains a bit at the end of his poop and often leaves a little smear of diarrhea. It’s never seemed like a full-blown medical crisis, so I didn’t worry too much. But now that I’m deep in “fix the diet” mode, all the pieces are starting to come together.