Sometimes you have to do unfortunate things to your cat. Like bathe him.
Spent the other day splashing in the tub with Truman Capote (first thing Peter said in the shelter: “That cat looks exactly like Truman Capote!”), his special danger yowl tearing at my eardrums and plying my heartstrings. Most cats are self-cleaning, but Persians — which we think Truman is, at least partly, given the nose, eyes, and coat — have so much fur that they periodically need help.
Washing and grooming it while it’s wet lets you comb out acres of hairy muck. And Truman is such a good kitty he actually doesn’t mind the hairdryer at all (tip I picked up from a Persian breeder — better than letting him track water all over the apartment and giving his coat the chance to matt when wet and then set into a helmet of knots as it air-dries).
But give me one look at those big, sad eyes and I’m melting.
Yes, grooming is so much more fun when you do it, you big cream-puff. As you were.
2 responses so far ↓
joebookshop // January 14, 2008 at 4:56 am
Oh Kitten! I want to make you into mince meat and put you in a pie! Mmm-mm!
photojenna // January 14, 2008 at 8:13 am
For the record, kitten, all I want to do is smother you in a tight embrace. So who’s the better owner, eh? Mince-meat-eater-dude or hugs-a-lot-lady? Huh?
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