There’s nothing like a wet cat to inspire feelings of pathos and compassion. Really, how can you not be sympathetic? I hesitate to use the word “cute”, because it might seem like I doused her for my benefit. It was for hers– I found a flea last night (boo), so it was immediately bath time. Always a good girl: no crying, no clawing nor scratching, minimal resistance and attempts to climb out, and consequently, almost no mess. Fabulous. I so seldom bathe her, so I must make record of it, I must!
Before– the “fatty” with wings:
And now for her shrinking act. She hopped out once, while I ran for the camera, but after putting her back in, she stayed in until I picked her up for drying. I felt a little guilty, yeah. So well behaved, though, that’s my good girl. (It should be said she likes the tub in general, she often jumps in after I finish a shower.) After:
All clean. Fresh shampoo scent, ahh! Be happy, you smell so good.