I sit upon the grooming stool
as quietly as I can
The big show is tomorrow
and I’ve got to beat that tan.
I’ve got to get “Best Fancy”
I’ll try my very best
To please my mistress ’cause I know
she’s getting quite obsessed
“You are the best”. She tells me,
“But we’ve got to get you clean,
Your tail and paws are spotless
Just like a fairy queen”.
I’m really not complaining
‘Cause I’m treated rather well,
Except the day before a show
When I’d like to scream and yell!
I’m upside down and inside out
This way round and that
Examining every nook and crevice
For a knot, or worse – a matt!
And all the while that Hoover
Blowing cold air on my bottom;
I expect it’s an Angora’s lot,
But it really feels quite rotten!
At least she’s satisfied I’m done
And I can have a rest,
`Alas! No greens for me tonight –
As you may have guessed.
Up tomorrow, crack of dawn
And groomed up to the nines,
Then in my carrying box I’m placed –
I recognise the signs.
And at the hall I’m groomed again –
Thats taking things too far!
But mistress says its needed
If I’m to become a star…
Whether I should win or lose
I don’t care a jot
But it matters to my mistress –
And she’s the only mum I’ve got!

Poem from 1993 year book by Yvonne Hobbs