Today it happened -- Kiki's bath.
I moved her litter box, swept that corner, and put down a folded towel for my knees. I pulled aside the shower curtain, doing everything early in the day in order to prepare myself psychologically.
This evening, when Kiki came to tell me it was supper time, I was ready. Going into the bathroom on our way to the kitchen, I started running water. To move her toward me, I popped the cat food can and let her smell the food.
Then I picked her up -- without much struggle, even when she saw where we were going. She did panic when she got wet, but not as much as usual. I think she wanted to be clean, but was frightened by the slippery tub. I hugged her while cleaning her with the other hand, and she buried her face against my shoulder. In her wiggling, she turned so that her back was under the running water, but she didn't move away from it. Maybe it felt nice and warm?
She kind of jumped out of the tub when I released her at the end, and I caught her with "her" raggedy towel. Drying off seemed almost worse to her than being in the water. When I let her go, she plopped down in the living room and went to work licking herself dry.
I said, "Treats?" And she forgot all about getting dry. When I put down her supper, she ate before going back to the job of drying herself. I caught her again in the towel, which didn't make her too happy, but neither was she too upset as I rubbed her off a bit more. When I scratched her (damp) back, she sat there and purred.
She's clean now.
Oh, the picture? No, of course that's not Kiki. How many hands do you think I have, anyway? But maybe I will try the sink next time.
Foggy morning thoughts and reflections
1 hour ago