Survival of the Fittest

Well, I survived yesterday and believe me that is saying something!

My frazzled nerves are finally calmed down this morning, I have my mug of coffee, and as I take a deep breath I will begin to write. First of all I want to share my cat washing experience. Cat washing, you say? Yes, I say. Cat washing. In my book it is too bad that one can't throw ones pets into the washing machine, add a bit of detergent and freshener and Wa-la have a fluffy, static free fluff ball. Okay, so that is just a dream...... Yesterday afternoon, my dear, sweet husband informs me that he thinks it's time for a cat bath. Hmmm.......a cat bath. I'm thinking to myself what exactly will this entail? Now, let me fill you in....before meeting Scott I was strictly a dog person. Buster was my canine love. He was a handsome golden colored lab/shepherd mix. He had it all. The playfulness and love of a lab, and the intelligence of a German Shepherd. I was crushed when he passed away in 2004. I had lost a member of my family. Now, Scott is a cat person. When we married he brought Joe and Samson with him. They are indoor cats. (I had never had indoor animals before so that was a whole different issue to get used to.) I have to say that the cats have grown on me. They are very loving and sweet. So anyway, back to the cat washing story. It was bathtime for the feline set and I wasn't sure how this whole operation was going to go down. Now, those of you that are cat bath experts will have to just grin and bear with me through this story.....

We decided that Samson, the long furred Maine Coon Cat would be the first. We knew he'd cry and scare skittish Joe so we trapped Joe in the master bathroom while we bathed Samson in the hall bath. Scott was in charge of holding Samson while I applied the dreaded water to the fur. Did I mention that cats are NOT fond of water? Well, let me tell you, they are not. I now know from personal experience. With all the crying (Samson's not mine) and squirming you'd have thought we were trying to drown the poor cat the way he acted. What's even worse, Samson sort of sounded like a baby crying. How morbid is that? Once he was totally soaked and shampooed his fur was plastered to his skin. He looked HILARIOUS! I hope Samson doesn't take offense, but he looked like the head of a wet mop. I don't think he found it nearly as amusing as I did. Scott and I got wet too and weren't looking all that hot ourselves by the time the cat washing was through. THEN it was Joe's turn. Joe looked like a dead cat walking...like he was on his way to his execution. Scott and I tried to console him. We assured him that he would look and smell like a million bucks. He didn't seem to care about that. He hated the water as much as Samson, but acted more resigned to his fate. After the baths we wrapped our wet fur balls up in bath towels and dried them off. The kids held them and cuddled. I think the cats forgive us.....either that or they are secretly plotting their revenge.