Maggie has been in need of a bath for some time now. That things she does with her tongue just isn't cutting it.
I am the only one who bathes Maggie. I don't know how it happened, but when the Cat Bather assignment was given out, Hubs was off to the teacher's lounge making copies on the mimeograph machine.
I've given Maggie baths since she was a kitten, so you would think by now that she knows she isn't going to drown or die or be tortured. She could easily stand there nicely in the tub and wait patiently as I remove the stink from her fur.
But, then again, we're talking about Maggie.
So she stands there in the tub (and by stand I mean tries to escape continually) and moans and cries so as to alert the neighbors that she is drowning or dying or being tortured. Fortunately for us, all of our neighbors either listen to loud music,aren't home, or just figure the noise is part of our weirdness.
I've been putting it off for a while. It's cold. It's Maggie. Last night I stopped procrastinating. Maggie needed a bath and she has been sporting an Alfalfa at the base of her tail that would make Darla scream.
How does a cat get an Alfalfa?
Anyway.
I filled the tub with warm water, got out the sweet-scented, hairball-reducing shampoo, stacked some towels, and scooped up Maggie from her usual spot- the sofa. As soon as I turned the corner towards our bedroom, she began to wail. She may be old and stinky, but she's not stupid.
I plopped her in the tub and commenced to bathing. And praying. And wondering why in the world Hubs went back to the shelter to get her. In record time, she was clean and I was soaking wet.
Maggie's yellow eyes stared me down with disdain as I wrapped her in an old towel. I put her on the bathroom counter and gave her a quick blow dry. At one point she looked at herself in the mirror. She was not amused.
Once she was nearly dry, I let her down and she plodded away in disgust. She moped and snubbed me for at least an hour.
I can't wait to see what I find later on the rug.
Oh, and Hubs, you may want to get a new toothbrush. It was resting on the bathroom counter during Maggie's beauty treatment.
I cannot be responsible for Maggie's actions during that split second I had to turn my back.
Thursday, March 11, 2010
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5 comments:
I haven't bathed our most recent acquisition yet. He is FERAL and attacks me on a good day.
I break out in hives just thinking about wrestling him in the sink.
That is so funny! Never had cats, but when I ask one of my dogs if she wants a bath, she puts her ears back and trots away...the other one hides.
There are few things more pitiful to see than a soaking wet cat....
Hope you are back in Maggie's good graces soon...
Adrienne
You are a brave, brave woman. I've always suscribed to the belief that cats aren't meant to be bathed. "Brave," she said with a slight shake or her head.
Haven't even gotten past this line yet. . .
"Hubs was off to the teacher's lounge making copies on the mimeograph machine."
Totally cracked me up--as I still USED a mimeograph machine my first year of teaching. We were REALLY excited when they got a fancy schmancy one that copied in BLACK!!!
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