"Everything we see hides another thing, we always want to see what is hidden by what we see." ~ Rene MagritteOur feline friends are officially getting old.... as are we. Miss Clover and Miss Scarlett have already left us, leaving their siblings a little lost and sad. The ragdolls are fast approaching the ripe old age of 13 and are slowing down; although they were never very energetic, even when young. They prefer a slow pace of life... eat, sleep, sleep, sleep, eat some more and then sleep. Nicky here is still hiding. Such a timid fellow, he hides in plain sight. He thinks no one can see him if his nose and face are almost covered, but tends to forget that 14 pound body and long bouffant tail that sticks out behind him. Right now he needs a bath. We brush and clip and get enough fur to make a sweater for a small child this time of year, but he still needs a bath. If I keep saying he needs a bath, perhaps it will magically happen.....
Early on in life, Nicky had a bath at the vet. Perhaps that scarred him for life, or perhaps his irrational fear and paranoia that hits only when he sees water is simply congenital; though I don't believe the latter as his sister Willow is perfectly horrified but perfectly behaved in her bath, simply looking with a pitiful gaze as if to say... "why are you doing this to me?" Nicholas, on the other hand, ended up with a note on his permanent record that read in large letters... "NICHOLAS DOES NOT BATHE WELL!" His bathing behavior, which I decided to take on myself and which was not one of my better ideas, has become progressively worse. Time before last, he bit me... hit a vein and wouldn't let go. I got him loose, wrapped a towel around my wrist and almost drowned him in the sink while he thrashed water all over the laundry room floor. His bath was less than satisfactory and I ended up with a hematoma from my hand to my elbow.
I bathed him again a few months ago. This time in the large master bath shower. This time with a muzzle that also blindfolded him. This time with me outside the shower... at least to get him wet. His reaction was the same. He screamed and twisted and jumped. I have never seen him jump that high... straight up and then flopping down on the floor of the shower. Then I held his muzzled head on a soft wash rag fairly tight to the floor with one hand while soaping and scrubbing him with the other, then rinsing with the hand held sprayer until the soap was gone. Only at the very end did I run a bit of a soapy rag over his head and rinse that. Then I got out of the shower as quickly as possible and let him go nuts until he calmed a bit and realized that the water was off.
The strange thing is that as soon as I wrap him in the warm towels fresh from the dryer, he goes limp and is perfectly content to be dried and air blowed and brushed and combed. He simply closes his eyes and lays there as if at the spa. Looking at these baby blues... who could believe such a demon resides inside.
Sigh... like I said... Nicky needs a bath.
(end of post)
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