Cat bathing is an art and a science

I woke up early this morning, so I decided it was just about time to give the cats a bath. They were getting grimy and I was getting allergic. Kind of like Winchester getting washed down with a wet towel, only I actually throw them in the tub and hose them down and shampoo them and everything. And they take it. Because they have to.

Usually Mogget, at least, takes it quite stoically. He hates it but knows it’s inevitable.  Tildrum–he’s a fighter. So I just make sure that their claws are clipped beforehand, and make it as quick as possible. 

This morning, it wasn’t quick enough. I’m scrubbing Tildrum’s back, trying to get him rinsed off before he jumps out of the tub, and without any notice at all–no hunkering down, no eyeing the outside. Suddenly he’s just sailing through the air, and there’s a wet tail in my face, whipping my glasses away. That cat can jump.

Revenge is sweet, though
. He’s all clean and fluffy and smelling fresh now.