When you have a giant, grumpy basilisk as a companion, there’s one thing you never really think about until it happens: shedding.
Pickles sheds his scales a couple of times a year, and for the most part, he’s pretty good at managing it on his own. He rubs against rocks, stretches out in the sun, and generally takes care of it like the proud, independent creature he is. But there’s one part of him that always causes trouble—his frills.
The Frill Fiasco
Pickles has these large, spiky frills on either side of his head, and while they’re very impressive (and a little intimidating), they’re also a nightmare when it comes to shedding. The old scales get stuck between the spikes, and no amount of rock-rubbing or tail-swatting can seem to get them off.
That’s where I come in.
Step One: Gaining His Cooperation
First, I have to convince Pickles to let me help. This is no small feat. Pickles doesn’t exactly love being fussed over, and he’s not shy about letting me know it. I’ve learned the hard way that approaching him too quickly can result in a tail-swipe strong enough to knock over a small table.
So, I come prepared—with snacks. Pickles has a soft spot for fresh fish, and I always make sure to have plenty on hand before attempting any grooming.
Step Two: The Shedding Tools
Once I’ve got him settled (read: distracted by fish), I bring out my tools. I use a sturdy comb, a soft-bristled brush, and a damp cloth to help loosen the stuck scales. Sometimes, if the scales are really stubborn, I have to use a special tool Father made—kind of like tweezers but strong enough to handle basilisk scales without breaking.
Step Three: Getting to Work
Pickles usually tolerates the process, though not without plenty of grumbling and dramatic huffs. I work carefully, brushing and scraping away the old scales while he munches on his fish.
The frills are the trickiest part. They’re delicate, and I have to be extra gentle to avoid hurting him. He always flinches when I get too close to his eyes, which makes me nervous, but I think he secretly appreciates the attention—at least, once it’s over.
The Rewards of Patience
After about an hour (yes, it takes that long), Pickles is finally free of his old scales. His frills look shiny and new, and he always gives a little shake, sending a cloud of loose scales into the air like glitter.
And the best part? Pickles gets so smug after a good shedding session. He struts around the yard, his frills flaring dramatically, as if to say, “Look at me! I’m magnificent!”
Bonus: Scale Collection
One perk of helping Pickles shed is that I get to keep the old scales. Basilisk scales are tough and shimmery, like pieces of polished metal, and I’ve started a little collection of them. Some are as small as coins, while others are as big as my hand.
Father says we could use them for crafting or spellwork, but I’m tempted to make some jewelry out of them. Imagine a necklace made of basilisk scales—how cool would that be?
The Aftermath
Once Pickles is fully shed, he’s in a much better mood. He’ll usually nap in the sun for hours, looking completely content. Meanwhile, I’m left with sore arms, a comb full of scales, and a surprisingly big sense of accomplishment.
Taking care of Pickles can be a lot of work, but it’s worth it to see him happy (and less grumpy). Plus, it’s kind of amazing to be able to say, “I help a basilisk shed his scales.” Not everyone can add that to their list of skills!
So, if you ever find yourself with a shedding basilisk, remember: patience, snacks, and a strong brush are your best friends. And maybe wear gloves—you don’t want a tail-swipe ruining your day.
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