Do you like having your hair brushed? I don’t! For three days I have avoided the terrible task as the comb (which Bonny snuck into the garden) has been missing. Now our human has found it and despite best efforts, she has done the dreadful dead. I feel better; yes and I look better; true. It’s the indignity I object to. She lifts my legs and brushes underneath, then she lifts my tail (!!!) and brushes there too. What’s a man to do? Is nothing sacred? Oh no, here she comes with those wet wipes for ear cleaning. One must endure oh ay.