Cat bath

I want to start this post, by giving myself a pat on the back. I started my blog six weeks and 14 posts ago, and this is my first mention of my cats. For those of you who are avid readers, but do not know me personally, I have two cats, Tulip (or Touhy) and Randolph, who I am crazy about.

But being from my family, even a sane trend must come to an end. And so... today I would like to share last night's adventure.... the cat baths!

(At this point, I also feel the need to assure you that I am not a 350-pound, middle-aged, nearly-bald, pork-rind-loving, wears-one-pair-of-glasses-on-her-head-and-another-on-her-face, smells-like-a-cat person.)

About once every 6 months, my husband and I get this crazy idea that we need to give the cats a bath. By now, we have a system which involves a shut bathroom door, a large plastic cup, some horrible smelling shampoo, and a lot of prayer. There is only one guarantee. By the end of the night I will be soaked, my husband will be scratched, and no one will be happy.

We moved into a lovely townhouse in February that seemed to have everything. Everything except.... a bathroom door. This, of course, being one of the keys to a successful cat bath.

I will spare you the scratching and meowing and franticness of it all, and leave you with these two very pathetic cats. (Who are now soft and fluffy and clean.)

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