I have been thinking about those times in life when the best of intentions go woefully awry. Our cat Romeo has a few health issues that inconvenience his ability to be a completely normal kitty, but he has learned to cope quite well with his struggles. The other evening he jumped up on the bed and sashayed past me so he could stand on the back of the bed frame and look out the window. “Ooh Wee,” did I get a whiff of something nasty! After my big guy had finished scoping out the goings on in the back yard, he decided to come snuggle. The stench was pretty noxious, causing my stomach to lurch. Romeo gets blocked anal glands from time to time and I figured he had a situation going on back there. It was close to eleven and I was tired, there was no way I was going to try and bathe him at that hour, waiting for the morning seemed prudent. As soon as we woke up, I stripped the bed and announced to my spouse that I wished to enlist his help in giving Master Romeo a spa treatment. Normally when Romeo needs some help maintaining himself we put him in an empty tub and then add water, one person holds him steady, while the other washes his back end. In retrospect, I am not sure why I came up with the crazy idea that I would fill the tub with water, sit in it with him, thinking that my being there, would help keep him calm. As my hubby went to place my feline friend in the tub, with me already seated, waiting to receive him, I realized things were not going to go as I had hoped. As Romeo was lowered into warm water, the cat began to squirm, getting rather wet, which caused him to panic. My spouse began to feel a bit nervous that he was going to get scratched and lost his hold, and Romeo took this opportunity to try and flee, however he unfortunately slid on the side of the tub landed on his back and the next thing we knew he was under water! We grabbed him and got him in a towel, it was seconds, but to a cat, that was a complete and total gong show, very uncool! For the remainder of the day, Romeo glowered at us and slunk around the house, bedraggled and pathetic looking. Since his unfortunate happenstance, Romeo no longer lays on the bathroom floor like he usually does when I bathe, go figure he doesn’t trust that we won’t try and drown him. I am no longer allowed to pick him up, if I do he squirms and grumbles and becomes rather perplexed with me. On a positive note, he doesn’t smell any more, but I am thinking the next time he becomes odiferous there is no way, come hell or high water, that we are getting our boy into a bath! I know he will forgive me, last night when he thought I was asleep he sidled up next to me and purred, but in the waking hours he remains aloof and I am getting the message loud and clear, “You done be wrong, woman!”
No Time To Paws 