Thursday, May 17, 2012
Yesterday I gave the cats a bath. First I decided to bathe Leila because she was the easier of the two. Washing Leila is like stretching and warming up the muscles before you actually begin the heart pounding, breath wrenching aerobic movements of the bath. I closed the doors to the bathroom so that a quick exit would be averted. I then turned on the water carefully getting the right amount of cold mixed with the hot. Leila knew what was coming and hid behind the tall box that held the paper in a single column. I spoke to her softly telling her that it would be okay and how much better that she would feel with a bath and a new flea collar. I continued speaking softly and told her that I got her a pretty pink piece of jewelry just to put her tags on. I then sprayed her down as she stood in the tub watching me soap her and massage the shampoo into her long gray striped fur. She didn't like it but trusted that I would not harm her. I toweled her dry, collared her and she happily went on her way.
Next was Sonic and the aerobic expansion of movement was about to begin. Sonic is a quiet independent sort of cat. She quietly loves to rub up against your leg so that you will reach down, scratch between her ears. She then will roll over onto her back stretching, meowing softly for her tummy to be rubbed. She silently moves daily in and out of your life doing as she pleases. But this day her plans would be interrupted because she was about to get a bath. I had been dreading this for days but it had to be done. The procedure started the same as it did for Leila but with a twist. As we neared the bathroom my voice was softly trying to soothe her tense rigid body. As we entered the bathroom and I closed the door she whimpered a sigh of distress. I knew that I would have a fight on my hands. I carefully adjusted the water, wet her down and before I could shampoo her her short black and white fur she began the climb of her life up the tiled shower wall. One hand on the cat and one on the shampoo I tried to reposition the spastic hysterical cat while still softly telling her everything would be okay. I continued with how good she would feel with such clean and shiny fur. She could have cared less. I was trying to clean her with every inch of my life. My breath was deep and forced. My heart was pounding heavy within my body. I didn't know that bathing a cat could be so physical, so aerobic. I was up, then I was down, I was left, then I went right. I worked at the top of my ability to keep her back facing me. STAY AWAY FROM THE CLAWS. STAY AWAY FROM THE CLAWS! As soon as I finished the soaping, the rinsing, I wrapped the towel around her and a calm engulfed her being. The purring let me know that she was going to be alright and a zen had once again entered our life.