How to Bathe a Cat...

First, buy a suit of armor...

Or wear heavy denim.

Make sure to take at least six shots of whiskey first, to dull the pain... oh wait... we haven't bathed the cat yet.

Okay... first fill sink with warm water. Have shampoo nearby, and have a partner nearby, also swathed in heavy denim, to catch the cat whenif it escapes.

Make sure partner isn't prone to fleeing and slamming door behind himthem.

Lovingly cradle cat to chest, stroking it gently, scratching it behind the ears while cooing reassureances into its ear. Don't let it see the sink full of water. Don't let it see the shampoo. Better yet, don't let it see the bathroom. Consider blindfolding cat. Give up idea when you realize you'd have to let it go to do that, and your partner won't come anywhere near you while holding annoyed cat.

Gently lower cat into warm water while keeping a firm hold on the scruff of cat's neck. This will keep them moderately still and allow you a modicum of control of cat while bathing. Hey! I SAID a MODICUM!!!

mod·i·cum (mŏd'ĭ-kəm) n. pl. mod·i·cums or mod·i·ca (-kə) A small, moderate, or token amount: "England still expects a modicum of eccentricity in its artists" (Ian Jack). [Middle English, from Latin, from neuter of modicus, moderate, from modus, measure; see med- in Indo-European roots.]

Okay, everybody got that?

SO, we're bathing the cat. Pour warm water gently over the squalling, struggling demon cat until coat is wet. Attempt to dribble shampoo over cat's body, but as the cat flails, end up actually squirting it in partner's eye. From four feet away.

Fight partner over spigot rights while also trying to keep cat from disembowling you with hind claws. Shove partner away from sink with a stern, "There IS a bathtub!" and resist urge to plunge cat's head under watersquirt shampoo in partner's other eye just for good measure.

Finally get shampoo on cat and start lathering, being sure to get all areas, including stomach, under the chin, neck, behind the ears and....

Suddenly realize you're going to have to let go of the cat long enough to shampoo the scruff of the neck.

Eye dripping partner speculatively.

Watch door slam as partner makes his escape. (He knows you far too well)

Let go of scruff and grab cat under chest to shampoo neck. Ignore water dripping into your shoes as cat flails and tries to scrabble up your arm to escape evil water.

Try to grab scruff again, only to confront the problem of... it's soapy, it's slippery, and... the cat is wise to you.

Look at tattered remains of denim shirt sleeves, and realize... you still have to rinse the cat OFF.

Look at furious cat, look at door, look at sink full of warm soapy water.

Look at shower speculatively.

Turn on shower, grab cat by slippery scruff, and hold cat under the shower.

Ignoring lacerations on arms, wrap cat in large beach towel and suffocate lovingly tell cat next time, I'll BURN the damn fleas offwhat a good kitty he/she is. Open door and hand struggling bundle to partner and call him a wuss ask him to dry the cat off, please.

Remove sodden, shredded remains of shirt. Eye shredded, bloody remains of arms. Decide next time cat needs a bath, LET THE DAMN VET DO IT!!!

*thunk*

Everybody Should Have A Bit Of Surreal In Their Day...

Some mornings, I am soooo in automatic, and because I'm sick, it's worse. So, I got up, got the kids up, made their lunches, kept pushing them to get dressed ("No, Impossible Son, you may NOT wear those pants because one, they are way too short and two, if you button them, you may not be able to actually INHALE anymore without serious internal injury..."), made sure all papers were signed, all projects were in hand, all shoes were found... in other words, all the mom-stuff I do because...well... I'm the one stuck with the job. And yes, I was the one doing it because I AM the Mom and Mom's are not allowed to be sick. At least, not until the kids are at school.

So, I made sure the Impertinent Daughter's classroom agenda was signed, and I made sure the Impossible Son had his Big Bag of Popcorn for the Thanksgiving feast his kindergarten class is going to have, and forced my fevered brain to remember which way to go to get to the school.

I got them signed in, and helped Mr. Manzie carry the popcorn (which was in a bag bigger than he was) to his class, and when I left, I was on auto-pilot. Y'all know how that is, right?

So, I walked to my mini-van, unlocked the door (I'm a city girl, you BET I lock my doors when I get out of the car! and when I get in, too!) and got in, buckled the seatbelt, started up the engine, looked up, and my first thought was, "Who the hell stuck a Virgin Mary to my dashboard? And why does my car reek of patchouli?"

Yeah, I can hear you all laughing from here. 

Anyhow, that sort of popped me out of auto-pilot and I looked around. My next thought was, "Holy Mackinoly, I've been hit by a thief who cleans your car, steals your CD's, and puts Catholic icons on your dashboard." Because Mr. Manzie's Tonka dump truck, and two other toy cars were no longer on the floor in front of the front passenger seat, sharing space with a large bin of half-melted crayons, and a soccer-ball. And the Husbandly One's soccer association i.d. was no longer hanging from the rearview mirror, nor was the Texas State Parks pass, and the Kid Mirror was now purple instead of black. And there was a small pink flamingo dangling from the mirror. I looked down at the table between the front seats where I had put my purse, which was gone. And I looked behind me. The Impossible Son's booster seat was gone, as was the Impertinent Daughter's inevitable sheaf of drawing paper. I turned to face forward again. OMG, I thought... I'm in the Twilight Zone. That or my fever is REALLY high, and I'm hallucinating.

Then common sense kicked in and I looked around the parking lot. Gee, that red minivan three places down looked awfully familiar, with the big soccer ball sticker on the back and the "Keep Austin Weird" bumper sticker below it, along with the other stickers we have there. I turned off the engine, and got out of the car. Somehow, I had come across one of those truly weird coincidences. Somewhere out there, folks, is a car the same make and model as yours, that your key will fit in, and you'll be able to start their engine. It happens. There may even be two. This isn't the first time this sort of thing has happened to me. I got out of the car, and looked at it. It was the same make and model as mine, same year. And the same color. I hadn't really looked up when I walked out into the parking lot, I had just headed for the red minivan. It's something I do when deep in thought. Or on automatic. I locked it back up, and walked back to MY minivan. What if I hadn't snapped to it? What if I had driven home, and only noticed everything when I went to pick up the kids? That made me fall apart laughing until I was weak. Oh, geez, can you IMAGINE the phone call the Husbandly One would have gotten? And what about the other person? Would they have just automatically gotten into MY minivan and sat down and thought,"Wait... this isn't my car!!"

Today can only get weirder. 

*hides*