• How To Bathe A Cat

    From Daryl Stout@316:36/20 to All on Sat Mar 13 00:05:40 2021
    Some people say cats never have to be bathed. They say cats lick
    themselves clean. They say cats have a special enzyme of some sort in
    their saliva that works like new, improved Wisk - dislodging the dirt
    where it hides and whisking it away.

    I've spent most of my life believing this folklore. Like most blind believers, I've been able to discount all the facts to the contrary,
    the kitty odors that lurk in the corners of the garage and dirt smudges
    that cling to the throw rug by the fireplace.

    The time comes, however, when a man must face reality: when he must
    look squarely in the face of massive public sentiment to the contrary
    and announce: "This cat smells like a port-a-potty on a hot day in
    Juarez."

    When that day arrives at your house, as it has in mine, I have some
    advice you might consider as you place your feline friend under your
    arm and head for the bathtub:

    -- Know that although the cat has the advantage of quickness and lack
    of concern for human life, you have the advantage of strength.
    Capitalize on that advantage by selecting the battlefield. Don't try
    to bathe him in an open area where he can force you to chase him.
    Pick a very small bathroom. If your bathroom is more than four feet
    square, I recommend that you get in the tub with the cat and close
    the sliding-glass doors as if you were about to take a shower.
    (A simple shower curtain will not do. A berserk cat can shred a
    three-ply rubber shower curtain quicker than a politician can shift
    positions.)

    -- Know that a cat has claws and will not hesitate to remove all the
    skin from your body. Your advantage here is that you are smart and
    know how to dress to protect yourself. I recommend canvas overalls
    tucked into high-top construction boots, a pair of steel-mesh gloves,
    an army helmet, a hockey face mask, and a long-sleeved flak jacket.

    -- Prepare everything in advance. There is no time to go out for
    a towel when you have a cat digging a hole in your flak jacket. Draw
    the water. Make sure the bottle of kitty shampoo is inside the glass
    enclosure. Make sure the towel can be reached, even if you are lying
    on your back in the water.

    -- Use the element of surprise. Pick up your cat nonchalantly, as if
    to simply carry him to his supper dish. (Cats will not usually notice
    your strange attire. They have little or no interest in fashion as a
    rule. If he does notice your garb, calmly explain that you are taking
    part in a product testing experiment for J.C. Penney.)

    -- Once you are inside the bathroom, speed is essential to survival.
    In a single liquid motion, shut the bathroom door, step into the tub
    enclosure, slide the glass door shut, dip the cat in the water and
    squirt him with shampoo. You have begun one of the wildest 45 seconds
    of your life.

    -- Cats have no handles. Add the fact that he now has soapy fur, and
    the problem is radically compounded. Do not expect to hold on to him
    for more than two or three seconds at a time. When you have him,
    however, you must remember to give him another squirt of shampoo and
    rub like crazy. He'll then spring free and fall back into the water,
    thereby rinsing himself off. (The national record for cats is three
    latherings, so don't expect too much.)

    -- Next, the cat must be dried. Novice cat bathers always assume this
    part will be the most difficult, for humans generally are worn out at
    this point and the cat is just getting really determined. In fact, the
    drying is simple compared to what you have just been through. That's
    because by now the cat is semipermanently affixed to your right leg.
    You simply pop the drain plug with you foot, reach for your towel and
    wait. (Occasionally, however, the cat will end up clinging to the top
    of your army helmet. If this happens, the best thing you can do is to
    shake him loose and to encourage him toward your leg.) After all the
    water is drained from the tub, it is a simple matter to just reach down
    and dry the cat.

    -- In a few days the cat will relax enough to be removed from your leg.
    He will usually have nothing to say for about three weeks and will
    spend a lot of time sitting with his back to you. He might even become psychoceramic and develop the fixed stare of a plaster figurine.

    -- You will be tempted to assume he is angry. This isn't usually the
    case. As a rule he is simply plotting ways to get through your defenses
    and injure you for life the next time you decide to give him a bath.

    -- But at least now he smells a lot better.
    --- SBBSecho 3.13-Win32
    * Origin: The Thunderbolt BBS - tbolt.synchro.net (316:36/20)
  • From Daryl Stout@316:36/20 to All on Sun Jun 13 00:04:46 2021
    Some people say cats never have to be bathed. They say cats lick
    themselves clean. They say cats have a special enzyme of some sort in
    their saliva that works like new, improved Wisk - dislodging the dirt
    where it hides and whisking it away.

    I've spent most of my life believing this folklore. Like most blind believers, I've been able to discount all the facts to the contrary,
    the kitty odors that lurk in the corners of the garage and dirt smudges
    that cling to the throw rug by the fireplace.

    The time comes, however, when a man must face reality: when he must
    look squarely in the face of massive public sentiment to the contrary
    and announce: "This cat smells like a port-a-potty on a hot day in
    Juarez."

    When that day arrives at your house, as it has in mine, I have some
    advice you might consider as you place your feline friend under your
    arm and head for the bathtub:

    -- Know that although the cat has the advantage of quickness and lack
    of concern for human life, you have the advantage of strength.
    Capitalize on that advantage by selecting the battlefield. Don't try
    to bathe him in an open area where he can force you to chase him.
    Pick a very small bathroom. If your bathroom is more than four feet
    square, I recommend that you get in the tub with the cat and close
    the sliding-glass doors as if you were about to take a shower.
    (A simple shower curtain will not do. A berserk cat can shred a
    three-ply rubber shower curtain quicker than a politician can shift
    positions.)

    -- Know that a cat has claws and will not hesitate to remove all the
    skin from your body. Your advantage here is that you are smart and
    know how to dress to protect yourself. I recommend canvas overalls
    tucked into high-top construction boots, a pair of steel-mesh gloves,
    an army helmet, a hockey face mask, and a long-sleeved flak jacket.

    -- Prepare everything in advance. There is no time to go out for
    a towel when you have a cat digging a hole in your flak jacket. Draw
    the water. Make sure the bottle of kitty shampoo is inside the glass
    enclosure. Make sure the towel can be reached, even if you are lying
    on your back in the water.

    -- Use the element of surprise. Pick up your cat nonchalantly, as if
    to simply carry him to his supper dish. (Cats will not usually notice
    your strange attire. They have little or no interest in fashion as a
    rule. If he does notice your garb, calmly explain that you are taking
    part in a product testing experiment for J.C. Penney.)

    -- Once you are inside the bathroom, speed is essential to survival.
    In a single liquid motion, shut the bathroom door, step into the tub
    enclosure, slide the glass door shut, dip the cat in the water and
    squirt him with shampoo. You have begun one of the wildest 45 seconds
    of your life.

    -- Cats have no handles. Add the fact that he now has soapy fur, and
    the problem is radically compounded. Do not expect to hold on to him
    for more than two or three seconds at a time. When you have him,
    however, you must remember to give him another squirt of shampoo and
    rub like crazy. He'll then spring free and fall back into the water,
    thereby rinsing himself off. (The national record for cats is three
    latherings, so don't expect too much.)

    -- Next, the cat must be dried. Novice cat bathers always assume this
    part will be the most difficult, for humans generally are worn out at
    this point and the cat is just getting really determined. In fact, the
    drying is simple compared to what you have just been through. That's
    because by now the cat is semipermanently affixed to your right leg.
    You simply pop the drain plug with you foot, reach for your towel and
    wait. (Occasionally, however, the cat will end up clinging to the top
    of your army helmet. If this happens, the best thing you can do is to
    shake him loose and to encourage him toward your leg.) After all the
    water is drained from the tub, it is a simple matter to just reach down
    and dry the cat.

    -- In a few days the cat will relax enough to be removed from your leg.
    He will usually have nothing to say for about three weeks and will
    spend a lot of time sitting with his back to you. He might even become psychoceramic and develop the fixed stare of a plaster figurine.

    -- You will be tempted to assume he is angry. This isn't usually the
    case. As a rule he is simply plotting ways to get through your defenses
    and injure you for life the next time you decide to give him a bath.

    -- But at least now he smells a lot better.
    --- SBBSecho 3.14-Win32
    * Origin: The Thunderbolt BBS - Little Rock, Arkansas (316:36/20)
  • From Daryl Stout@316:36/20 to All on Mon Sep 13 00:05:23 2021
    Some people say cats never have to be bathed. They say cats lick
    themselves clean. They say cats have a special enzyme of some sort in
    their saliva that works like new, improved Wisk - dislodging the dirt
    where it hides and whisking it away.

    I've spent most of my life believing this folklore. Like most blind believers, I've been able to discount all the facts to the contrary,
    the kitty odors that lurk in the corners of the garage and dirt smudges
    that cling to the throw rug by the fireplace.

    The time comes, however, when a man must face reality: when he must
    look squarely in the face of massive public sentiment to the contrary
    and announce: "This cat smells like a port-a-potty on a hot day in
    Juarez."

    When that day arrives at your house, as it has in mine, I have some
    advice you might consider as you place your feline friend under your
    arm and head for the bathtub:

    -- Know that although the cat has the advantage of quickness and lack
    of concern for human life, you have the advantage of strength.
    Capitalize on that advantage by selecting the battlefield. Don't try
    to bathe him in an open area where he can force you to chase him.
    Pick a very small bathroom. If your bathroom is more than four feet
    square, I recommend that you get in the tub with the cat and close
    the sliding-glass doors as if you were about to take a shower.
    (A simple shower curtain will not do. A berserk cat can shred a
    three-ply rubber shower curtain quicker than a politician can shift
    positions.)

    -- Know that a cat has claws and will not hesitate to remove all the
    skin from your body. Your advantage here is that you are smart and
    know how to dress to protect yourself. I recommend canvas overalls
    tucked into high-top construction boots, a pair of steel-mesh gloves,
    an army helmet, a hockey face mask, and a long-sleeved flak jacket.

    -- Prepare everything in advance. There is no time to go out for
    a towel when you have a cat digging a hole in your flak jacket. Draw
    the water. Make sure the bottle of kitty shampoo is inside the glass
    enclosure. Make sure the towel can be reached, even if you are lying
    on your back in the water.

    -- Use the element of surprise. Pick up your cat nonchalantly, as if
    to simply carry him to his supper dish. (Cats will not usually notice
    your strange attire. They have little or no interest in fashion as a
    rule. If he does notice your garb, calmly explain that you are taking
    part in a product testing experiment for J.C. Penney.)

    -- Once you are inside the bathroom, speed is essential to survival.
    In a single liquid motion, shut the bathroom door, step into the tub
    enclosure, slide the glass door shut, dip the cat in the water and
    squirt him with shampoo. You have begun one of the wildest 45 seconds
    of your life.

    -- Cats have no handles. Add the fact that he now has soapy fur, and
    the problem is radically compounded. Do not expect to hold on to him
    for more than two or three seconds at a time. When you have him,
    however, you must remember to give him another squirt of shampoo and
    rub like crazy. He'll then spring free and fall back into the water,
    thereby rinsing himself off. (The national record for cats is three
    latherings, so don't expect too much.)

    -- Next, the cat must be dried. Novice cat bathers always assume this
    part will be the most difficult, for humans generally are worn out at
    this point and the cat is just getting really determined. In fact, the
    drying is simple compared to what you have just been through. That's
    because by now the cat is semipermanently affixed to your right leg.
    You simply pop the drain plug with you foot, reach for your towel and
    wait. (Occasionally, however, the cat will end up clinging to the top
    of your army helmet. If this happens, the best thing you can do is to
    shake him loose and to encourage him toward your leg.) After all the
    water is drained from the tub, it is a simple matter to just reach down
    and dry the cat.

    -- In a few days the cat will relax enough to be removed from your leg.
    He will usually have nothing to say for about three weeks and will
    spend a lot of time sitting with his back to you. He might even become psychoceramic and develop the fixed stare of a plaster figurine.

    -- You will be tempted to assume he is angry. This isn't usually the
    case. As a rule he is simply plotting ways to get through your defenses
    and injure you for life the next time you decide to give him a bath.

    -- But at least now he smells a lot better.
    --- SBBSecho 3.14-Win32
    * Origin: The Thunderbolt BBS - Little Rock, Arkansas (316:36/20)
  • From Daryl Stout@316:36/9 to All on Sun Mar 13 00:06:10 2022
    Some people say cats never have to be bathed. They say cats lick
    themselves clean. They say cats have a special enzyme of some sort in
    their saliva that works like new, improved Wisk - dislodging the dirt
    where it hides and whisking it away.

    I've spent most of my life believing this folklore. Like most blind believers, I've been able to discount all the facts to the contrary,
    the kitty odors that lurk in the corners of the garage and dirt smudges
    that cling to the throw rug by the fireplace.

    The time comes, however, when a man must face reality: when he must
    look squarely in the face of massive public sentiment to the contrary
    and announce: "This cat smells like a port-a-potty on a hot day in
    Juarez."

    When that day arrives at your house, as it has in mine, I have some
    advice you might consider as you place your feline friend under your
    arm and head for the bathtub:

    -- Know that although the cat has the advantage of quickness and lack
    of concern for human life, you have the advantage of strength.
    Capitalize on that advantage by selecting the battlefield. Don't try
    to bathe him in an open area where he can force you to chase him.
    Pick a very small bathroom. If your bathroom is more than four feet
    square, I recommend that you get in the tub with the cat and close
    the sliding-glass doors as if you were about to take a shower.
    (A simple shower curtain will not do. A berserk cat can shred a
    three-ply rubber shower curtain quicker than a politician can shift
    positions.)

    -- Know that a cat has claws and will not hesitate to remove all the
    skin from your body. Your advantage here is that you are smart and
    know how to dress to protect yourself. I recommend canvas overalls
    tucked into high-top construction boots, a pair of steel-mesh gloves,
    an army helmet, a hockey face mask, and a long-sleeved flak jacket.

    -- Prepare everything in advance. There is no time to go out for
    a towel when you have a cat digging a hole in your flak jacket. Draw
    the water. Make sure the bottle of kitty shampoo is inside the glass
    enclosure. Make sure the towel can be reached, even if you are lying
    on your back in the water.

    -- Use the element of surprise. Pick up your cat nonchalantly, as if
    to simply carry him to his supper dish. (Cats will not usually notice
    your strange attire. They have little or no interest in fashion as a
    rule. If he does notice your garb, calmly explain that you are taking
    part in a product testing experiment for J.C. Penney.)

    -- Once you are inside the bathroom, speed is essential to survival.
    In a single liquid motion, shut the bathroom door, step into the tub
    enclosure, slide the glass door shut, dip the cat in the water and
    squirt him with shampoo. You have begun one of the wildest 45 seconds
    of your life.

    -- Cats have no handles. Add the fact that he now has soapy fur, and
    the problem is radically compounded. Do not expect to hold on to him
    for more than two or three seconds at a time. When you have him,
    however, you must remember to give him another squirt of shampoo and
    rub like crazy. He'll then spring free and fall back into the water,
    thereby rinsing himself off. (The national record for cats is three
    latherings, so don't expect too much.)

    -- Next, the cat must be dried. Novice cat bathers always assume this
    part will be the most difficult, for humans generally are worn out at
    this point and the cat is just getting really determined. In fact, the
    drying is simple compared to what you have just been through. That's
    because by now the cat is semipermanently affixed to your right leg.
    You simply pop the drain plug with you foot, reach for your towel and
    wait. (Occasionally, however, the cat will end up clinging to the top
    of your army helmet. If this happens, the best thing you can do is to
    shake him loose and to encourage him toward your leg.) After all the
    water is drained from the tub, it is a simple matter to just reach down
    and dry the cat.

    -- In a few days the cat will relax enough to be removed from your leg.
    He will usually have nothing to say for about three weeks and will
    spend a lot of time sitting with his back to you. He might even become psychoceramic and develop the fixed stare of a plaster figurine.

    -- You will be tempted to assume he is angry. This isn't usually the
    case. As a rule he is simply plotting ways to get through your defenses
    and injure you for life the next time you decide to give him a bath.

    -- But at least now he smells a lot better.
    --- SBBSecho 3.15-Win32
    * Origin: The Thunderbolt BBS - Little Rock, Arkansas (316:36/9)
  • From Daryl Stout@316:36/20 to All on Mon Jun 13 00:07:45 2022
    Some people say cats never have to be bathed. They say cats lick
    themselves clean. They say cats have a special enzyme of some sort in
    their saliva that works like new, improved Wisk - dislodging the dirt
    where it hides and whisking it away.

    I've spent most of my life believing this folklore. Like most blind believers, I've been able to discount all the facts to the contrary,
    the kitty odors that lurk in the corners of the garage and dirt smudges
    that cling to the throw rug by the fireplace.

    The time comes, however, when a man must face reality: when he must
    look squarely in the face of massive public sentiment to the contrary
    and announce: "This cat smells like a port-a-potty on a hot day in
    Juarez."

    When that day arrives at your house, as it has in mine, I have some
    advice you might consider as you place your feline friend under your
    arm and head for the bathtub:

    -- Know that although the cat has the advantage of quickness and lack
    of concern for human life, you have the advantage of strength.
    Capitalize on that advantage by selecting the battlefield. Don't try
    to bathe him in an open area where he can force you to chase him.
    Pick a very small bathroom. If your bathroom is more than four feet
    square, I recommend that you get in the tub with the cat and close
    the sliding-glass doors as if you were about to take a shower.
    (A simple shower curtain will not do. A berserk cat can shred a
    three-ply rubber shower curtain quicker than a politician can shift
    positions.)

    -- Know that a cat has claws and will not hesitate to remove all the
    skin from your body. Your advantage here is that you are smart and
    know how to dress to protect yourself. I recommend canvas overalls
    tucked into high-top construction boots, a pair of steel-mesh gloves,
    an army helmet, a hockey face mask, and a long-sleeved flak jacket.

    -- Prepare everything in advance. There is no time to go out for
    a towel when you have a cat digging a hole in your flak jacket. Draw
    the water. Make sure the bottle of kitty shampoo is inside the glass
    enclosure. Make sure the towel can be reached, even if you are lying
    on your back in the water.

    -- Use the element of surprise. Pick up your cat nonchalantly, as if
    to simply carry him to his supper dish. (Cats will not usually notice
    your strange attire. They have little or no interest in fashion as a
    rule. If he does notice your garb, calmly explain that you are taking
    part in a product testing experiment for J.C. Penney.)

    -- Once you are inside the bathroom, speed is essential to survival.
    In a single liquid motion, shut the bathroom door, step into the tub
    enclosure, slide the glass door shut, dip the cat in the water and
    squirt him with shampoo. You have begun one of the wildest 45 seconds
    of your life.

    -- Cats have no handles. Add the fact that he now has soapy fur, and
    the problem is radically compounded. Do not expect to hold on to him
    for more than two or three seconds at a time. When you have him,
    however, you must remember to give him another squirt of shampoo and
    rub like crazy. He'll then spring free and fall back into the water,
    thereby rinsing himself off. (The national record for cats is three
    latherings, so don't expect too much.)

    -- Next, the cat must be dried. Novice cat bathers always assume this
    part will be the most difficult, for humans generally are worn out at
    this point and the cat is just getting really determined. In fact, the
    drying is simple compared to what you have just been through. That's
    because by now the cat is semipermanently affixed to your right leg.
    You simply pop the drain plug with you foot, reach for your towel and
    wait. (Occasionally, however, the cat will end up clinging to the top
    of your army helmet. If this happens, the best thing you can do is to
    shake him loose and to encourage him toward your leg.) After all the
    water is drained from the tub, it is a simple matter to just reach down
    and dry the cat.

    -- In a few days the cat will relax enough to be removed from your leg.
    He will usually have nothing to say for about three weeks and will
    spend a lot of time sitting with his back to you. He might even become psychoceramic and develop the fixed stare of a plaster figurine.

    -- You will be tempted to assume he is angry. This isn't usually the
    case. As a rule he is simply plotting ways to get through your defenses
    and injure you for life the next time you decide to give him a bath.

    -- But at least now he smells a lot better.
    --- SBBSecho 3.15-Win32
    * Origin: The Thunderbolt BBS - Little Rock, Arkansas (316:36/20)
  • From Daryl Stout@316:36/20 to All on Tue Sep 13 00:07:10 2022
    Some people say cats never have to be bathed. They say cats lick
    themselves clean. They say cats have a special enzyme of some sort in
    their saliva that works like new, improved Wisk - dislodging the dirt
    where it hides and whisking it away.

    I've spent most of my life believing this folklore. Like most blind believers, I've been able to discount all the facts to the contrary,
    the kitty odors that lurk in the corners of the garage and dirt smudges
    that cling to the throw rug by the fireplace.

    The time comes, however, when a man must face reality: when he must
    look squarely in the face of massive public sentiment to the contrary
    and announce: "This cat smells like a port-a-potty on a hot day in
    Juarez."

    When that day arrives at your house, as it has in mine, I have some
    advice you might consider as you place your feline friend under your
    arm and head for the bathtub:

    -- Know that although the cat has the advantage of quickness and lack
    of concern for human life, you have the advantage of strength.
    Capitalize on that advantage by selecting the battlefield. Don't try
    to bathe him in an open area where he can force you to chase him.
    Pick a very small bathroom. If your bathroom is more than four feet
    square, I recommend that you get in the tub with the cat and close
    the sliding-glass doors as if you were about to take a shower.
    (A simple shower curtain will not do. A berserk cat can shred a
    three-ply rubber shower curtain quicker than a politician can shift
    positions.)

    -- Know that a cat has claws and will not hesitate to remove all the
    skin from your body. Your advantage here is that you are smart and
    know how to dress to protect yourself. I recommend canvas overalls
    tucked into high-top construction boots, a pair of steel-mesh gloves,
    an army helmet, a hockey face mask, and a long-sleeved flak jacket.

    -- Prepare everything in advance. There is no time to go out for
    a towel when you have a cat digging a hole in your flak jacket. Draw
    the water. Make sure the bottle of kitty shampoo is inside the glass
    enclosure. Make sure the towel can be reached, even if you are lying
    on your back in the water.

    -- Use the element of surprise. Pick up your cat nonchalantly, as if
    to simply carry him to his supper dish. (Cats will not usually notice
    your strange attire. They have little or no interest in fashion as a
    rule. If he does notice your garb, calmly explain that you are taking
    part in a product testing experiment for J.C. Penney.)

    -- Once you are inside the bathroom, speed is essential to survival.
    In a single liquid motion, shut the bathroom door, step into the tub
    enclosure, slide the glass door shut, dip the cat in the water and
    squirt him with shampoo. You have begun one of the wildest 45 seconds
    of your life.

    -- Cats have no handles. Add the fact that he now has soapy fur, and
    the problem is radically compounded. Do not expect to hold on to him
    for more than two or three seconds at a time. When you have him,
    however, you must remember to give him another squirt of shampoo and
    rub like crazy. He'll then spring free and fall back into the water,
    thereby rinsing himself off. (The national record for cats is three
    latherings, so don't expect too much.)

    -- Next, the cat must be dried. Novice cat bathers always assume this
    part will be the most difficult, for humans generally are worn out at
    this point and the cat is just getting really determined. In fact, the
    drying is simple compared to what you have just been through. That's
    because by now the cat is semipermanently affixed to your right leg.
    You simply pop the drain plug with you foot, reach for your towel and
    wait. (Occasionally, however, the cat will end up clinging to the top
    of your army helmet. If this happens, the best thing you can do is to
    shake him loose and to encourage him toward your leg.) After all the
    water is drained from the tub, it is a simple matter to just reach down
    and dry the cat.

    -- In a few days the cat will relax enough to be removed from your leg.
    He will usually have nothing to say for about three weeks and will
    spend a lot of time sitting with his back to you. He might even become psychoceramic and develop the fixed stare of a plaster figurine.

    -- You will be tempted to assume he is angry. This isn't usually the
    case. As a rule he is simply plotting ways to get through your defenses
    and injure you for life the next time you decide to give him a bath.

    -- But at least now he smells a lot better.
    --- SBBSecho 3.15-Win32
    * Origin: The Thunderbolt BBS - Little Rock, Arkansas (316:36/20)
  • From Daryl Stout@316:36/20 to All on Tue Dec 13 00:05:11 2022
    Some people say cats never have to be bathed. They say cats lick
    themselves clean. They say cats have a special enzyme of some sort in
    their saliva that works like new, improved Wisk - dislodging the dirt
    where it hides and whisking it away.

    I've spent most of my life believing this folklore. Like most blind believers, I've been able to discount all the facts to the contrary,
    the kitty odors that lurk in the corners of the garage and dirt smudges
    that cling to the throw rug by the fireplace.

    The time comes, however, when a man must face reality: when he must
    look squarely in the face of massive public sentiment to the contrary
    and announce: "This cat smells like a port-a-potty on a hot day in
    Juarez."

    When that day arrives at your house, as it has in mine, I have some
    advice you might consider as you place your feline friend under your
    arm and head for the bathtub:

    -- Know that although the cat has the advantage of quickness and lack
    of concern for human life, you have the advantage of strength.
    Capitalize on that advantage by selecting the battlefield. Don't try
    to bathe him in an open area where he can force you to chase him.
    Pick a very small bathroom. If your bathroom is more than four feet
    square, I recommend that you get in the tub with the cat and close
    the sliding-glass doors as if you were about to take a shower.
    (A simple shower curtain will not do. A berserk cat can shred a
    three-ply rubber shower curtain quicker than a politician can shift
    positions.)

    -- Know that a cat has claws and will not hesitate to remove all the
    skin from your body. Your advantage here is that you are smart and
    know how to dress to protect yourself. I recommend canvas overalls
    tucked into high-top construction boots, a pair of steel-mesh gloves,
    an army helmet, a hockey face mask, and a long-sleeved flak jacket.

    -- Prepare everything in advance. There is no time to go out for
    a towel when you have a cat digging a hole in your flak jacket. Draw
    the water. Make sure the bottle of kitty shampoo is inside the glass
    enclosure. Make sure the towel can be reached, even if you are lying
    on your back in the water.

    -- Use the element of surprise. Pick up your cat nonchalantly, as if
    to simply carry him to his supper dish. (Cats will not usually notice
    your strange attire. They have little or no interest in fashion as a
    rule. If he does notice your garb, calmly explain that you are taking
    part in a product testing experiment for J.C. Penney.)

    -- Once you are inside the bathroom, speed is essential to survival.
    In a single liquid motion, shut the bathroom door, step into the tub
    enclosure, slide the glass door shut, dip the cat in the water and
    squirt him with shampoo. You have begun one of the wildest 45 seconds
    of your life.

    -- Cats have no handles. Add the fact that he now has soapy fur, and
    the problem is radically compounded. Do not expect to hold on to him
    for more than two or three seconds at a time. When you have him,
    however, you must remember to give him another squirt of shampoo and
    rub like crazy. He'll then spring free and fall back into the water,
    thereby rinsing himself off. (The national record for cats is three
    latherings, so don't expect too much.)

    -- Next, the cat must be dried. Novice cat bathers always assume this
    part will be the most difficult, for humans generally are worn out at
    this point and the cat is just getting really determined. In fact, the
    drying is simple compared to what you have just been through. That's
    because by now the cat is semipermanently affixed to your right leg.
    You simply pop the drain plug with you foot, reach for your towel and
    wait. (Occasionally, however, the cat will end up clinging to the top
    of your army helmet. If this happens, the best thing you can do is to
    shake him loose and to encourage him toward your leg.) After all the
    water is drained from the tub, it is a simple matter to just reach down
    and dry the cat.

    -- In a few days the cat will relax enough to be removed from your leg.
    He will usually have nothing to say for about three weeks and will
    spend a lot of time sitting with his back to you. He might even become psychoceramic and develop the fixed stare of a plaster figurine.

    -- You will be tempted to assume he is angry. This isn't usually the
    case. As a rule he is simply plotting ways to get through your defenses
    and injure you for life the next time you decide to give him a bath.

    -- But at least now he smells a lot better.
    --- SBBSecho 3.15-Win32
    * Origin: The Thunderbolt BBS - Little Rock, Arkansas (316:36/20)
  • From Daryl Stout@316:36/20 to All on Mon Mar 13 00:05:57 2023
    Some people say cats never have to be bathed. They say cats lick
    themselves clean. They say cats have a special enzyme of some sort in
    their saliva that works like new, improved Wisk - dislodging the dirt
    where it hides and whisking it away.

    I've spent most of my life believing this folklore. Like most blind believers, I've been able to discount all the facts to the contrary,
    the kitty odors that lurk in the corners of the garage and dirt smudges
    that cling to the throw rug by the fireplace.

    The time comes, however, when a man must face reality: when he must
    look squarely in the face of massive public sentiment to the contrary
    and announce: "This cat smells like a port-a-potty on a hot day in
    Juarez."

    When that day arrives at your house, as it has in mine, I have some
    advice you might consider as you place your feline friend under your
    arm and head for the bathtub:

    -- Know that although the cat has the advantage of quickness and lack
    of concern for human life, you have the advantage of strength.
    Capitalize on that advantage by selecting the battlefield. Don't try
    to bathe him in an open area where he can force you to chase him.
    Pick a very small bathroom. If your bathroom is more than four feet
    square, I recommend that you get in the tub with the cat and close
    the sliding-glass doors as if you were about to take a shower.
    (A simple shower curtain will not do. A berserk cat can shred a
    three-ply rubber shower curtain quicker than a politician can shift
    positions.)

    -- Know that a cat has claws and will not hesitate to remove all the
    skin from your body. Your advantage here is that you are smart and
    know how to dress to protect yourself. I recommend canvas overalls
    tucked into high-top construction boots, a pair of steel-mesh gloves,
    an army helmet, a hockey face mask, and a long-sleeved flak jacket.

    -- Prepare everything in advance. There is no time to go out for
    a towel when you have a cat digging a hole in your flak jacket. Draw
    the water. Make sure the bottle of kitty shampoo is inside the glass
    enclosure. Make sure the towel can be reached, even if you are lying
    on your back in the water.

    -- Use the element of surprise. Pick up your cat nonchalantly, as if
    to simply carry him to his supper dish. (Cats will not usually notice
    your strange attire. They have little or no interest in fashion as a
    rule. If he does notice your garb, calmly explain that you are taking
    part in a product testing experiment for J.C. Penney.)

    -- Once you are inside the bathroom, speed is essential to survival.
    In a single liquid motion, shut the bathroom door, step into the tub
    enclosure, slide the glass door shut, dip the cat in the water and
    squirt him with shampoo. You have begun one of the wildest 45 seconds
    of your life.

    -- Cats have no handles. Add the fact that he now has soapy fur, and
    the problem is radically compounded. Do not expect to hold on to him
    for more than two or three seconds at a time. When you have him,
    however, you must remember to give him another squirt of shampoo and
    rub like crazy. He'll then spring free and fall back into the water,
    thereby rinsing himself off. (The national record for cats is three
    latherings, so don't expect too much.)

    -- Next, the cat must be dried. Novice cat bathers always assume this
    part will be the most difficult, for humans generally are worn out at
    this point and the cat is just getting really determined. In fact, the
    drying is simple compared to what you have just been through. That's
    because by now the cat is semipermanently affixed to your right leg.
    You simply pop the drain plug with you foot, reach for your towel and
    wait. (Occasionally, however, the cat will end up clinging to the top
    of your army helmet. If this happens, the best thing you can do is to
    shake him loose and to encourage him toward your leg.) After all the
    water is drained from the tub, it is a simple matter to just reach down
    and dry the cat.

    -- In a few days the cat will relax enough to be removed from your leg.
    He will usually have nothing to say for about three weeks and will
    spend a lot of time sitting with his back to you. He might even become psychoceramic and develop the fixed stare of a plaster figurine.

    -- You will be tempted to assume he is angry. This isn't usually the
    case. As a rule he is simply plotting ways to get through your defenses
    and injure you for life the next time you decide to give him a bath.

    -- But at least now he smells a lot better.
    --- SBBSecho 3.14-Win32
    * Origin: The Thunderbolt BBS - Little Rock, Arkansas (316:36/20)