Last time I washed the cat was right before we moved into our little house. He suffered a tail injury-perhaps it was merely a tail indignation-which required a midnight trip to the vet and much concern.
We figured that Cat would never be bathed again.
But he is fat, and lazy, and not so good about grooming. He was accumulating dirt on his catskin like sand. He spends a lot of time laying down, and I figured he couldn’t be comfortable with the grit rubbing against his hide. I nerved myself up to bathe Cat. Chris was sick, so I had to do it alone.
He took it better than expected. No scratching or biting, just several attempts at escape. In the end, he lay down in the tub and yowled as I doused him with water and rubbed him with Chris’s Pert. That made it hard to wash his tummy, but I did my best. Brown streams of water came off him.
I raised him out of the tub wrapped in a towel and held him until his panicked breathing slowed a little. He’s such a fat cat I had some fear of him having a stroke or something. But he at last calmed down and began licking his paws. I left a clean, dry towel on the floor to help with the drying process.
Lucy Dog came over to inspect. Cat smelled funny now; he didn’t used to smell like Pert. Lucy really wanted to help Cat by licking, but she knew that Cat had never tolerated such impudence. She stood over the grooming cat with her tongue slightly out, showing moral support I guess.
It’s been three days since the bath, and he loves to lay on the towel. It’s his now. He is a pleasure to pet and proud of his shiny coat. We can tell he is proud because he slits his eyes and blinks with buddha-like satsifaction. I think this bath proves that we could do it again if necessary.