Friday, October 22, 2010
I don't believe in bathing cats. Not unless they really, really need it.
When Rufus came in today from his morning saunter, he hesitated before jumping up on my lap. "Poor little thing," I thought, "he's probably wet." I reached down to check and his underside was indeed wet. It was more than wet: it was thick with mud; he was covered in black sludge on his sides, belly and tail.
I tried rubbing it off with the cat towel but there was just too much. Rufus was grooming himself and then vomiting up the black ooze. "That can't be good for him," I thought, so it was bath time.
I'm so glad we have a downstairs loo. You can shut the door and even a very wet and angry cat can't escape. There was hissing, there was struggling, there was climbing up my shoulders and over my back. In the end he was mostly clean and most of the cat shampoo was rinsed off.
And I'm now up and showered early and the downstairs handbasin is squeaky clean. So it's not all bad, is it?