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Slow Cat

by David Yehudah, Bellflower, CA, USA


I've suspected all along Willoughby lacked a few watts for lighting his bulbs, but this morning he took the cake.

I was sprawled out in the tub in all my glory taking a hot soak, when Willoughby leaped up on the side of the tub to keep me company. He just sat there and purred, eyes half shut, tail slowly swinging in the breeze.

Of course I couldn't let well enough alone. He hasn't had a bath since he got fleas as a kitten. He hasn't needed one; I can bury my nose in his fur anytime and smell nothing but sweet, warm cat. But the devil made me gently scoop him up and set him in the tub between my knees. Nothing but his head stuck up out of the water.

He didn't throw a fit! I was astounded. Cats aren't like that.

That lasted about five seconds. He sat there and calmly surveyed his surroundings. . .until

WATER!!!!! I'm in the water!!!! Instantly I was sharing the tub with the most frantic animal you can imagine. All four paws began scrambling in a different direction. I was slapped, swatted, trampled, and generally swarmed by a very wet, frantic feline.

But the funny part was when he hit the floor. Every paw that touched the smooth tiles had to be licked dry, simultaneously. Apparently touching that cold surface triggered some reflex. Now, I know and you know a cat cannot lick all four paws at the same time, but he was trying so hard I swear he almost made it.


Editor's note:


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