Cat Bathing As A Martial Art

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[SAMWolf]

Some people say cats never have to be bathed. They say cats lick themselves clean. They say cats have a special enzyme of some sort in their saliva that works like new, improved Wisk -- dislodging the dirt where it hides and whisking it away.

I've spent most of my life believing this folklore. Like most blind believers, I've been able to discount all the facts to the contrary, the kitty odors that lurk in the corners of the garage and dirt smudges that cling to the throw rug by the fireplace.

The time comes, however, when a man must face reality: when he must look squarely in the face of massive public sentiment to the contrary and announce: "This cat smells like a port-a-potty on a hot day in Juarez."

When that day arrives at your house, as it has in mine, I have some advice you might consider as you place your feline friend under your arm and head for the bathtub:

• Know that although the cat has the advantage of quickness and lack of concern for human life, you have the advantage of strength. Capitalize on that advantage by selecting the battlefield. Don't try to bathe him in an open area where he can force you to chase him. Pick a very small bathroom. If your bathroom is more than four feet square, I recommend that you get in the tub with the cat and close the sliding-glass doors as if you were about to take a shower. (A simple shower curtain will not do. A berserk cat can shred a three-ply rubber shower curtain quicker than a politician can shift positions.)

• Know that a cat has claws and will not hesitate to remove all the skin from your body. Your advantage here is that you are smart and know how to dress to protect yourself. I recommend canvas overalls tucked into high-top construction boots, a pair of steel-mesh gloves, an army helmet, a hockey face mask, and a long-sleeved flak jacket.

• Prepare everything in advance. There is no time to go out for a towel when you have a cat digging a hole in your flak jacket. Draw the water. Make sure the bottle of kitty shampoo is inside the glass enclosure. Make sure the towel can be reached, even if you are lying on your back in the water.

• Use the element of surprise. Pick up your cat nonchalantly, as if to simply carry him to his supper dish. (Cats will not usually notice your strange attire. They have little or no interest in fashion as a rule. If he does notice your garb, calmly explain that you are taking part in a product testing experiment for J.C. Penney.)

• Once you are inside the bathroom, speed is essential to survival. In a single liquid motion, shut the bathroom door, step into the tub enclosure, slide the glass door shut, dip the cat in the water and squirt him with shampoo. You have begun one of the wildest 45 seconds of your life.

• Cats have no handles. Add the fact that he now has soapy fur, and the problem is radically compounded. Do not expect to hold on to him for more than two or three seconds at a time. When you have him, however, you must remember to give him another squirt of shampoo and rub like crazy. He'll then spring free and fall back into the water, thereby rinsing himself off. (The national record for cats is three latherings, so don't expect too much.)

• Next, the cat must be dried. Novice cat bathers always assume this part will be the most difficult, for humans generally are worn out at this point and the cat is just getting really determined. In fact, the drying is simple compared to what you have just been through. That's because by now the cat is semipermanently affixed to your right leg. You simply pop the drain plug with you foot, reach for your towel and wait. (Occasionally, however, the cat will end up clinging to the top of your army helmet. If this happens, the best thing you can do is to shake him loose and to encourage him toward your leg.) After all the water is drained from the tub, it is a simple matter to just reach down and dry the cat.

In a few days the cat will relax enough to be removed from your leg. He will usually have nothing to say for about three weeks and will spend a lot of time sitting with his back to you. He might even become psychoceramic and develop the fixed stare of a plaster figurine.

You will be tempted to assume he is angry. This isn't usually the case. As a rule he is simply plotting ways to get through your defenses and injure you for life the next time you decide to give him a bath.

But at least now he smells a lot better.

[mickeylee]

Know that although the cat has the advantage of quickness and lack of concern for human life, you have the advantage of strength. Capitalize on that advantage by selecting the battlefield. Don't try to bathe him in an open area where he can force you to chase him. Pick a very small bathroom. If your bathroom is more than four feet square, I recommend that you get in the tub with the cat and close the sliding-glass doors as if you were about to take a shower.

LOL!!! Been there, done that!

[Ganymede]

"I don't need no stinkin bath."

[Redcloak]

Can't leave out Hitler the Cat...

[balrog666]

Bumpity-bump!

[LibKill]

What did you do to that poor rodent? It's ears are bent!

[Sungirl]

No I meant babies....since you do not see a problem putting trusing cats into a box, lowering them in water until they can only stick their noses out of the water...probably terrified out of their minds...naturally terrified of water in the first place......I dont' understand why you wouldn't do that with a squirming screaming kid? Why not? No harm ...right?

What fun! Horrible trautmatic experinces can be had by both...and will be felt by both for perhaps a lifetime. No diff.

[anniegetyourgun]

Hhhmmm...Hitler the cat? I once had a neighbor who had a schnauzer named Rommell. He was one scary dog.

[Fraulein]

Wow! Your artwork is wonderful! You're quite talented! I'm impressed!

[Skooz]

I think you and I may be kindred spirits, sungirl.

[SAMWolf]

An Open Letter to a FurBall,

Here, I'll put this letter by the dish of Tender Vittles so you'll be sure to see it.

First off, let's come to an understanding. I didn't ask for you and I didn't particularly want you. But since nobody else seems to want you, either, I guess I'm elected. I wonder what goes through someone's mind to drop off a runt like you and expect it to survive. Just a kitten. My neighbor says you can't be much over five, maybe six weeks old.

What I should do is take you down to the pound and let them put you out of your misery. I may look like an easy mark, but don't go pushing me. It's just that it was getting dark and you were dogging my steps out in the front yard. And the way you made that hamburger scrap dissapear. I guess you haven't had any hamburger in a while, have you? Or maybe anything else. Just don't go getting swell-headed about it. I would have done that for anybody under those conditions.

Look you, sprawled out on my robe. Not a worry in the world. It doesn't bother you that I have to run around the place in my shorts, does it? If this were winter and this were Minnesota, I'd be freezing because of you. Tomorrow morning I want my robe back.

It's also obvious you don't care much about what you've cost me. Do you know the price of kitty litter? And that plastic dishpan? Or cat food? Good grief. I could eat for a week on what that stuff costs ! And I sure hope nobody I know saw me buying that stuffed gizmo with a jingle bell on it. That'd be hard to explain. Then I hear there are shots too. I don't suppose you've had any of those, have you?

I know. You think you're cute, don't you? Well, I've got news for you. You're one of the ugliest critters God ever dreamed up. Look at you. I ought to put a mirror next to the food dish, only that would fall under cruelty to animals, I suppose. What's this bit with one blue eye and one green one? That won't get you any ribbons. And that tennis-ball sized stomach you've got now. Haven't you heard what happens to those who overeat? And your ears are twice what they should be. I'll bet you'd get great TV reception.

Incidentally, where's all the feline grace I've heard so much about? Watching you cavort around the place is like watching a Dixie cup in a windstorm. You act like you've got one too many legs. Jumping from the couch, you act as if you expect a parachute to open.

Stand advised that I'm onto all your tricks. So you know how to untie my shoelaces, so big deal. So you fit in my sneakers. Cute. A size 10-D kitten. I'll alert the media. Just don't think you can buy your way around here with all that purring, either. Learn to do the dishes and then maybe I'll consider keeping you.

But, maybe I'll hang onto you for a few days, maybe over the weekend. Looks like it might rain some. Besides, it's been too quiet lately. I'll see if I can't find some sucker dumb enough to want the ugliest kitten in the world. If not, then it's off to the pound you go. I have better things to do with my time then keep tabs on a ball of white fur with a grease spot on his back ... wonder how we're going to get that off ?

Anyway, back to the subject at hand. There's a bunch of ground rules you're going to have to bone up on, and I can't over stress their importance if you expect to get along.

For openers, stay out of my stuff. I know all those piles of paper are tempting playgrounds, but you've got your tail and your jingle bell toy. Besides, editors would never understand about those perforations around the edges of my stories. The desk also is off limits. I know you can't reach it now, but just in case you should happen to be around here for awhile and increase your range, remember that--no desk, ok? And while your at it, stay off the piano, too. I don't need anything around here that plays better than I do.

Second, you've got the sandbox mastered, so you're not as dumb as you look. Direct that same animal intelligence toward the drapes and sofa arms.

Next, no picky eating, OK? You learn to eat what I eat, and that doesn't imply I'm about to try Meow Mix.

And keep those goofy eyes of yours open. No biting on the power cords, squeezing in between the thermal windows, trying to ride my feet. You apparently don't learn much from experience. After I got your foot earlier, I never heard so much noise from such a small package before.

There's the basic rule book, Max. Max? That just now came to me and, boy, it fits you to a T. You remind me of an old sign painter I once knew who had white tufts of hair screwing out from behind his ears just like you. I once read somewhere that all animals are born with names and that some people instinctively stumble across the right ones. You're another Max if ever I saw one. When I call "Max!" I want to see some action, OK? I want to see some fur move.

We'll see how you take to riding in the van. It'll be nice to have something for a change that doesn't slobber all over the windows. I guess I can rig up a sandbox in the back without too much strain.

Read and initial this, Max. Then maybe I'll let you hang around for a month or two. Who knows? With any luck, we'll win an ugly cat contest some day and you can pay me back for all the kitty litter and shots and jingle bell toys, OK?

[Sungirl]

That is such a sweet story!! I have to send it around. The last part reminds me how my father had this little orange kitten follow him home from a field. IT Loved to ride in the van. My father used to go to Mcdonalds for coffee almost every morning and took the kitten...the kitten would drink out of the little creamers.

[Humidston]

What did you do to that poor rodent? It's ears are bent!

It's actually easy to get the ears like that.... You take a hammer.....

[Humidston]

I'M KIDDING!!! Just couldn't resist, LOL!

[RightOnline]

We've been cat owners for years; currently own three older females.

Take this to the bank: You do NOT..........repeat, NOT.........give cats a bath. They are exceedingly clean animals, and they don't need YOUR (e.g. owner's) help, thank you VERY much.

'Sides...............it would hurt like hell to try.

[okiedust]

Awwww. I just love these cat threads. You big ol' softy, you. My cat loves water and gets into the sink and under the running water when I'm preparing food. She thinks she's a leopard in the jungle snagging a fish from a swift stream, but alas its only an asparagas spear or a potato paring, but she runs off and takes it to her "lair" under the ottoman. I have to remember to check it frequently for items that tend to smell as they age. A funny little packet that has finally learned that "here, kitty, kitty, kitty" means something good. Because when I first got her she had fleas and required baths. THAT she didn't like at all.

regards

[Jen]

I was wondering when FReD Jr. would show up!

I haven't been brave enough to give my kitty a bath yet. I'm still waiting for the scars to heal from giving him medicine.

[Arizona]

You reminded me of a long haired kitty I had years ago who walked through fresh tar. It was all over her underbelly and underneath side of her tail besides her feet and legs. I had to take her to the vet to be put to sleep and cleaned. Cost me a fortune, as I remember.

[RightOnline]

"Hhhmmm...Hitler the cat? I once had a neighbor who had a schnauzer named Rommell. He was one scary dog."

Many, many moons ago when I was about 12 years old, we lived in Tupelo, Mississippi. We had a dog: a chihuahua named Chico. Kind of a cool dog, actually; not one of those "always shaking" chihuahuas.

Anyway, there lived in the neighborhood (and NOBODY seemed to know who owned him...) the BIGGEST, jet-black, most bad-ass German shepherd you've ever seen............I mean you could easily saddle this thing........named "Rommel". He was just a frightening sight, that beast. However, we knew a little secret about the much-feared Rommel.

He was bestest-buddies with Chico. Yep. These two were fast friends. Probably drinking buddies. The monster and the midget. They were hilarious together........but they were truly really, really good friends.

Now, here was their favorite gig together:

Picture our garage, door open. Some poor slob of a neighborhood dog goes wandering by outside on the sidewalk. Chico.............little dude goes running just outside the garage and yaps like all hell, trying his best to pick a fight. Passer-by dog takes the bait, stops, starts the nasty low growl, baring fangs, etc., etc. You know the look, the position. Chico keeps eggin' 'im on....

......and JUST as the poor sap decides to trot up the driveway to kick little loudmouthed Chico's ass...........

.......out of the shadows, totally unseen till now, comes Rommel. All sixteen-foot of 'im. He slowly walks out behind Chico, Chico raising hell............Rommel just standing there with that "Go ahead, make my day" look on his face as he glares at the poor bastard at the end of the driveway.

Wayward dog invariably freezes, stops snarling, tucks tail, ears lay back, eyes downcast, looking rapidly left and right..........scared spitless. He/she backs out slowly.........then runs like hell.

Chico gets a triumphant "I'm gonna chase you down and kick your ass!!!" look on his face, all excited.......Rommel just sort of glares. Then, the two of 'em silently turn around and trot back into the garage, into the shadows, waiting to do it all over again.

I used to watch 'em do this for hours.............

[Springman]

Feed her some White Castle's or some from of meat. then pray you can get her into the tub.
Hi SAMWolf

[imperator2]

My cat is so well trained. He takes off his robe, gets in the shower, turns on the water and cleans himself, then he rolls on a towel, puts on his robe, and goes to sleep.

It's all in the training.