Things That Bang

It was about seven in the morning when I heard three loud splashes. It sounded as if someone was splashing in the water trough in our back yard. Splashes? Water trough? Then I heard a loud Meowwww. Zoey had fallen in the water trough!! I ran out into the backyard and pulled the desperate cat out of water. Her claws were out and she grabbed my sleeve. I winced and grabbed one of my fluffy towels that were hanging on the clothes line. Wrapped her in it, took her in and realized she was all muddy. The water was dirty. She squirmed and I grabbed her shampoo. It was time to add insult to injury.

She kept wriggling as I took her to the bathroom. Opened the cap of cat shampoo but the shampoo wouldn’t flow.

The mouth of the bottle needed to pricked open with a sharp pointed object as small as a safety pin. Morons!! Anyone with a lick of sense knows that when an animal is cornered for a bath the damn shampoo bottles should be owner friendly. But no! That shampoo bottle would have taken an hour to open.

Zoey squirmed out of my hands and skated around the bathroom. I skidded after her.

Come back here! Zoey Lamba!! I am warning you.

When the kids don’t take my threats seriously why would the cat?

I looked around desperately and decided to give her a bath with my Body Shop Shampoo. Flipped open the lid , let the liquid slide into my scratched palm and then stalked the irate cat.

Ten minutes past she was no longer the hot missile zipping around but a drenched cat looking for a place to lick herself clean albeit miserably. I grabbed her and rubbed the shampoo in.

She wriggled, she grabbed me in a death vice and howled.

Zoey!! No! don’t you dare! That hurt. You stupid, dumb cat!

I cussed in pain and she meowed.

I turned the tap – Icy cold water. Her little white body stiffened. I called myself – a callous bitch.

Turned the other tap and scalding hot water burned my hand; I called myself a lousy buffoon.

With the lukewarm water splattering into the bucket I decided there was only one thing to do – drop her in the bucket of water.

Zoey was in for a second and before I could hold her down she was out again.

And the game began again and my cussing was ruder.

Five minutes later she was in the bucket –scrambling, meowing, eyes bulging, fur standing at its end and hating me with all her feline heart.

The shampoo refused to come out of her fur (obviously pet shampoo is better) and we had a nasty battle between us.

We both had our wounds to tend to once the bath was over; she with a wounded pride and I with nasty scratches.

I wrapped her in another warm fluffy towel and tried to dry her.

She trembled and let me dry her for a bit and then jumped off and hid in her favorite dirty corner.

I got a dirty look as if to say it was all my fault.

And I let her be.

Maybe a few kitty treats would have me back in her good books. But cats like elephants don’t forget. It will be sometime before she lets me become her favorite person once again.