Babaganoosh has bit of a situation once a year when his fur becomes tangled beyond all reason. There is seriously no reasoning with it, I’ve tried. He gets grumpy and raises his pink padded little paw at me, my own cat, if he catches me lurking around with anything resembling a brush. Then I get grumpy. From there, it’s a total downward spiral of ankle swatting, staring contests, and cabinet slamming. When these circumstances arise, they mandate conflict resolution via the one and only dreaded yet beloved feline stylist Frank Brocolli himself. You heard me, Frank BROCOLLI. Who incidentally has the wierdest glitteriest most barbiest business cards I ever did gaze upon.

As always, the ride over in the car with Mr. Babaganoosh was quite nice. He has world class travel etiquette. He really does, everyone says so. The whole way, he just sits prim and proper refining his already exceptional purring skills. He complained a few times on the way, which is unusual since only miaows during severe emergencies*. But it went smooth because I got all these silly pictures. What a kook.

Frank Brocolli enthusiastically suggested the Full Number 4. Which, if you order now, you’ll get a free nail clipping and bubble bath! Apply directly to the forehead. Apply directly to the forehead. Apply directly to the forehead. What was THAT?! Wow.

Along with a pretty solid shavedown, the Number 4 also came with a cool set of wookie boots. You know, the ones everyone was wearing a few years back with miniskirts? It turns out that terrible human fashion trends translate adorably to kitties, VERY cute. The afro-puff tail is another story though. While amusing, it looks like a froo-froo antenna trying to ping his intergalactic comrades.

See, I told you he’s the perfect co-pilot.

*Like the horror of discovering a blinding glare at the bottom of his food dish.

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