Fluffy

“Well, not bad for the first day”, Ivana mutters with satisfaction, glancing at a clock on the wall. True, the clock shows there’s still two hours till closing time, but Ivana doesn’t expect anyone to bring a pet for trimming at six p.m., so she hopes for some idling. Perhaps she could phone a coffee bar across the street and ask Martin to fetch her a cup of coffee. He doesn’t look bad, Ivana muses. Not bad at all. Quite a hunk, as a matter of fact. And she didn’t miss the way she caught his attention, too. She’ll let things develop for a day or two, say till weekend, and then ... Maybe they could take a ride out of town and who knows what can happen next ...

Ringing interrupts Ivana’s daydreaming rudely. It’s the entrance membrane, announcing a customer. Ivana rolls her eyes. Damn, just as she was hoping for some rest!

“Mrs. Hulme is not here?” Mrs. Hulme owns the pet care salon. She hired Ivana three days ago, telling her to start today. The woman standing before Ivana is dressed in money from head to toe. Ivana measures her up - not too obviously, she hopes - and adds. Shoes plus black trousers plus red jacket plus shawl plus purse ... Well, several grand at least. And that’s on sale. Only, this woman doesn’t look like someone shopping on sales. And there’s also a bracelet and rings and ear-rings, probably a necklace, too, hidden under the shawl. And a hairdo and make-up - discreet but top quality - that you don’t get for small change. And all that on a supremely shaped and polished body, despite the late forties. As Ivana’s brother, an auto mechanic, would say: nothing beats a well-refurbished old-timer.

“No, Mrs. Hulme is absent today ... Some family business, you know.”

“Oooh ... And I really have to go for a trip tomorrow, and my Fluffy can’t travel the way he is ... You’re new here?”

“Yes, I’m Ivana. This is my first day. Mrs. Hulme is not here, I’m sorry.”

“Hmmm, and what am I to do now? And Fluffy is really ...” The woman obviously doesn’t have much faith in a beginner, and the hurt professional pride starts stirring in Ivana. Was I best in class or wasn’t I, she thinks angrily. And why is this woman kidding me, as if I can’t trim some poodle?

“Well, no problem, madam. I can take care of Fluffy!”

“Really?” Ivana nods eagerly. “You’re right, I think you’ll manage! My Fluffy is not difficult, you know ...”

Where the hell is that Fluffy, Ivana wonders. The woman entered without any dog or kitten or whatever people keep as pets. But, the entrance membrane remained opened ... “Come, Fluffy! That’s the boy, you just come in ... You’ll tidy him up, won’t you? You just trim his hair a little, while I take a walk. I’ll return in an hour, hour and a half, OK?”

Fluffy enters the salon somewhat reluctantly, and Ivana immediately curses her professional pride and best marks in school and her big mouth. Fluffy stops, sniffs around and then comes to his lady and licks her hand. Ivana stares in disbelief and then snaps out of it. “Err ... Madam ... Fluffy ... What species did you say he is?”

* * *

A Korab ground sloth is a three-meters-long animal, measured from the blunt snout to the tip of its short tail. It is meter and a half tall at its shoulders. Fluffy’s front paws are armed with strong claws, some fifteen centimeters long, and he’s waving them menacingly right now, keeping Ivana at safe distance. His hair falls almost to the floor: warmer days are nearing, and Ivana has no doubt he could use some trimming. But, when Fluffy’s owner left and Ivana took scissors in her hand, sighing ... Fortunately, Fluffy warned her with threatening grumbling: Ivana would never deduce from his tiny, dumb eyes that a creature like that can have deadly intents. Apparently, he doesn’t recognize her scent. But, what was that damned woman thinking, Ivana wonders, why didn’t she warn her?

Well, serves me right! I have no one to blame for this but myself, Ivana curses as Fluffy sits on his haunches, overgrown in a meter-and-a-half long hair, snarling every so often as the deadly-looking claws whiz through the air.

“All right. Relax, take a deep breath ... There must be a way to handle this hairball. Maybe I should call Mrs. Hulme?” Ivana reaches for a cell phone in the pocket of her smock, but then she stops. It may not be such a good idea after all, not on her first day here. Mrs. Hulme could get an impression that Ivana cannot handle matters. No use that she trimmed four pocket poodles under a magnifying glass (each barely twenty centimeters long), used tweezers to exterminate ticks on a Maltese dwarf elephant (wasn’t that a veterinarian’s job?), cleaned ears of an Aldebaran haremorph (half a meter long!) and polished a Wistary armourclad’s carapace (the most grateful customer: she just pulls in and there’s nothing to worry about). No use, if Mrs. Hulme decides that Ivana cannot handle a simple Korab ground sloth!

So, Ivana decides not to phone for help. Maybe there’s something in drawers, some instructions or notes? Only, the desk is on the other end of the salon, and there’s Fluffy between Ivana and the desk.

And so, Ivana slowly heads for the desk, her back against the wall, not taking her eyes away from those claws. Tiny, mistrusting black eyes follow her, but if Fluffy didn’t charge so far, Ivana hopes he won’t.

The desk has several drawers. Ivana saw some pads and notebooks in one of them. She knows that one notebook is for bookings. She opens the drawer and takes everything out of it. Still keeping her eyes on Fluffy, she leafs through the notes. Yes, here it is, she found it! Mrs. Sova and Fluffy, booked for 18:15 today. So, Fluffy’s owner is Mrs. Sova. Pleased to meet you! And Mrs. Sova even brought Fluffy a little early. But there are no instructions, none whatsoever. Apparently, Mrs. Sova presumed that Ivana knows what to do with Fluffy. But, she doesn’t ... Sighing, Ivana digs deeper in the drawer, finding some displaced pencils and an old lighter. And then she finds a little horn ... Hmmm ...

Bad idea! The moment she honked, once, twice, Fluffy reared and howled and sat back, still holding his claws before him. Only, his stare stopped being stupid and definitely became angry. “All right, all right! You’re right, it pierced my ears, too!”, Ivana admits, returning the horn back into the drawer.

Maybe she should try the Net? Ivana looks at the clock on the wall. Damn, she already lost ten minutes, and by the time she finds how to trim a Korab ground sloth ... She knows what she’s facing: she graduated on hygiene and grooming of Aldebaran snow cat. 357 000 sites on Aldebaran snow cats, mostly about sex among Aldebaran snow cats and sex with Aldebaran snow cats. And only three sites with coherent instructions on how to groom Aldebaran snow cats. Same thing with all exotic pets. And she didn’t even hear about that damned sloth in the school ...

“Bloody cow!”, Ivana curses aloud. “Loaded herself with dough, so no way she’ll buy pets normal people buy! A poodle, a great Dane, a Persian cat, a panda bear? No, milady has to have a ground sloth! What does she see in you, anyway, all you do is sit and growl!” Fluffy doesn’t reply, but he doesn’t lower his claws, either. Damn, she can’t even reach him ... Maybe she should try some nice words?

“You’re a goood one, Fluffy, goood one ... Now, you must be soo hot and auntie Ivana will trim you just a little bit ... Just let me take care of you, and you’ll be so niice and coool ...” Ivana tries to approach Fluffy, comb in one hand, scissors in another. She barely made a step before those claws whizzed through the air. Ivana bolts away, but also realizes that Fluffy could have shred her to ribbons already if he really wanted. This way, he just warns her and keeps her at bay. Only, this stalemate can last forever: it won’t do if Mrs. Sova returns to find her Fluffy as overgrown as he was when she left him here.

“Perhaps Martin knows something”, Ivana hopes as she takes her cell phone. The way he brought coffee to Ivana today, he was bringing coffee to Mrs. Hulme and all the others working here, so maybe he knows ...

“Yes?”, Martin’s voice on the other end of the line sounds impatient. Ivana hears the murmur of guests and music: the coffee bar must be crowded.

“It’s me, Ivana.”

“Listen, I’m a little pressed here, I’ll ...”

“HEEEEELP!”

“Let me guess: Fluffy? I’ve seen the Sova woman bringing it to you.”

“Devil may take him, all he does is rears and growls and waves those claws of his and he won’t let me close and ...”

“Hey, listen, no panic! You’ve got a little box in one of the drawers. Pale blue, with fancy butterflies and flowers and a key. Take it and wind it ... It’s for little babies.”

“A little box? I didn’t find any little boxes”, Ivana opens drawer after drawer, rummaging through them. “I did find a horn ...”

“Nooo! No horns, he hates that! Find the box, it must be there somewhere ...”

“But, there’s no ... Oh! Here it is!” The box is a piece of kitsch Ivana wouldn’t even look at, pushed deep in the third drawer. Obviously, Fluffy doesn’t come too often. “And this will calm him down?”

“No. Look, it’s not for him ...” Not for him? “I don’t have time to explain right now, you just play the box and see for yourself. I’ll call you back, OK?” And Martin hangs down, leaving Ivana more baffled than before. Not for him? Then for whom?

OK, let’s see, Ivana sighs and winds the music box. A quiet, ringing melody spreads from it, some ancient lullaby. Fluffy is still reared, his claws drawn, but Ivana notices the hair on his belly moving, as if there’s something hidden in it.

“What is that?” A tiny pointed snout emerges, sniffing the air. And then, a small animal, no longer than Ivana’s index finger, disappears back under the hair. Some more commotion, it takes perhaps a minute for a grown male zebra shrew to come out of Fluffy’s coat. Ivana recognizes it, it’s a common animal in gardens, named after striped back. Another one appears after the first one, somewhat smaller. It’s a female, and she’s not alone! A tiny shrew holds her tail with its teeth. Its tail is held in turn by the second one, who is held in turn by the third one. Ivana counts six little ones. Daddy zebra shrew, mummy zebra shrew and a caravan of six baby zebra shrews. “I’m not supposed to trim them, too, am I?!” And then the caravan stops, mummy looks around and squeals silently. A moment later, the seventh tiny shrew leaves the sloth’s hair and grabs the sixth one with its teeth. Now, with everybody present and accounted for, the procession descends to the floor next to Fluffy and moves aside.

Fluffy looks at them for several long moments. Ivana has a momentary impression that he’s counting them, and then, when he’s certain that everybody got off him, he lowers his claws. “I mean, really!”, Ivana mutters as she approaches Fluffy carefully, holding scissors in her hand, suspicious and ready for all kinds of dirty tricks. But, the huge animal, that threatened to tear Ivana apart only a moment ago, is now waiting meekly for her to start trimming his hair.

* * *

“You see, the lullaby is a sign for the shrew family to leave the coat while the trimming goes on. The Sova woman has the same box at home. She winds it when she baths and brushes Fluffy. That’s what the shrews learned to recognize.”

“You know, I could have sworn he was counting them!” Ivana sips coffee. Working hours are over and she dropped to Martin’s. She had to thank him somehow for his advice, and the Saturday evening is already agreed upon.

When Ivana was done trimming and brushing him, Fluffy looked pleased. And the shrews looked pleased, too: they rapidly climbed his leg and crawled back into his coat. Most important, Mrs. Sova was also pleased. “Oh, my, you really tidied him up! And you didn’t have any problems with him, did you? He’s a good boy, my little Fluffy! And I’m sure to tell Mrs. Hulme how good a job you did!” The tip turned out to be quite nice, not bad for the first day, not bad at all.

“Well, he wanted to see if anybody was missing.”

“But, I mean, isn’t he too stupid to count? And where did he pick them up, anyway?”

“Probably in his garden.”

“You know what?”, Ivana murmurs. “Come to think of it ... He was really overgrown, but his coat was completely clean. No ticks, no fleas, mites, seed, nothing.”

“Ha”, Martin winks, “Why do you think he guards them so jealously? Zebra shrews are renowned pest exterminators.”

“Well”, Ivana thinks about it for a moment, then shrugs and takes another sip. “I guess there must be more than meets the eye behind those eyes.”