We've got this cat. She's quite a big cat, tabby and white, and has thick, luxuriant fur. We think she's about 10 years old but we don't know because she appeared in our garden 4 years ago looking healthy and well fed, wearing a collar without a name-tag, and we couldn't find out who owned her despite posters all over the village and notices in the post office and the vet's. She's been spayed too so someone had loved her but - she's still here and we call her Maddy. We love her too.
Our next-door neighbour moved out 12 months ago and his son is moving into his bungalow. The son is having a large extension built and it's been going on a long time. The site is muddy and oily (dad used to have oil-fired central heating) and our Maddy thinks it's a perfect place to explore. Our Maddy's white chest, belly and legs, that used to look like she washed them in Daz, turned a muddy grey and she wasn't getting clean despite hours of cat-licking.
It was the daughter's idea. We had some dog shampoo left that used to be our Jet's and she thought it might help to fetch the oily mud off. She got the late dog's old towel and filled the kitchen sink with warm water. Maddy was asleep on the dining room floor. Daughter picked her up and took her collar off. Maddy purred, sleepily, as daughter apologised for what was about to be done.
The back legs and tail went into the water. Have you seen Shrek 2? Did you see Puss in Boots do his "poor little kitty" face? Maddy stood stretched to full length, with daughter holding her firmly round the shoulders, with eyes rounded and pleading a la Puss while the paws flailed wildly. I, having donned the Marigolds, rubbed shampoo into the soiled fur. Maddy squirmed and tried, desperately, to gain a claw-hold on Daughter's chest. Daughter tried to push the front paws into the now sudsy water. Maddy was having none of it and went rigid then, with great agility, flexed her back legs and made a leap for freedom. Daughter grabbed her and tried to shove her back in the water. I splashed, ineffectually, with a jugful of clean rinsing water. The floor was soaked, the cat bedraggled. The exercise was abandoned.
Wrapped in the towel, Maddy stood immobile and gave us the "Wait till the RSPCA hear about this" look. Having soaked up as much water as possible we deposited the cat, towel and all, in front of the fire. Daughter examined her welted bosom while I brushed the cat and stroked her apologetically. Maddy, magnanimous in her victory, deigned to forgive us and gave us both a head-rub then commenced a vigourous tongue-drying routine.
The grey bits are, at least, a few shades lighter. It's going to be a long time before we're back to Daz-white but at least we're not as concerned about the consumption of oil when Maddy washes herself. Maddy has survived with some shred of dignity and has had the happiness of a good brushing, which she adores. She's still drying herself with her tongue.
I've tried having a word with her. I told her to stay away from the building site and save having to go through this again. She gave me a look that said, "**** off!"
Our next-door neighbour moved out 12 months ago and his son is moving into his bungalow. The son is having a large extension built and it's been going on a long time. The site is muddy and oily (dad used to have oil-fired central heating) and our Maddy thinks it's a perfect place to explore. Our Maddy's white chest, belly and legs, that used to look like she washed them in Daz, turned a muddy grey and she wasn't getting clean despite hours of cat-licking.
It was the daughter's idea. We had some dog shampoo left that used to be our Jet's and she thought it might help to fetch the oily mud off. She got the late dog's old towel and filled the kitchen sink with warm water. Maddy was asleep on the dining room floor. Daughter picked her up and took her collar off. Maddy purred, sleepily, as daughter apologised for what was about to be done.
The back legs and tail went into the water. Have you seen Shrek 2? Did you see Puss in Boots do his "poor little kitty" face? Maddy stood stretched to full length, with daughter holding her firmly round the shoulders, with eyes rounded and pleading a la Puss while the paws flailed wildly. I, having donned the Marigolds, rubbed shampoo into the soiled fur. Maddy squirmed and tried, desperately, to gain a claw-hold on Daughter's chest. Daughter tried to push the front paws into the now sudsy water. Maddy was having none of it and went rigid then, with great agility, flexed her back legs and made a leap for freedom. Daughter grabbed her and tried to shove her back in the water. I splashed, ineffectually, with a jugful of clean rinsing water. The floor was soaked, the cat bedraggled. The exercise was abandoned.
Wrapped in the towel, Maddy stood immobile and gave us the "Wait till the RSPCA hear about this" look. Having soaked up as much water as possible we deposited the cat, towel and all, in front of the fire. Daughter examined her welted bosom while I brushed the cat and stroked her apologetically. Maddy, magnanimous in her victory, deigned to forgive us and gave us both a head-rub then commenced a vigourous tongue-drying routine.
The grey bits are, at least, a few shades lighter. It's going to be a long time before we're back to Daz-white but at least we're not as concerned about the consumption of oil when Maddy washes herself. Maddy has survived with some shred of dignity and has had the happiness of a good brushing, which she adores. She's still drying herself with her tongue.
I've tried having a word with her. I told her to stay away from the building site and save having to go through this again. She gave me a look that said, "**** off!"
