Having a bath in the middle of the day seems decadent to say the least. But hang on a minute, I hear you say, isn't this post about cats? Well, gentle reader, bear with me and all (figuratively speaking) will be revealed.
I wasn't expecting any visitors or phone calls so the time was ideal to lock the doors, blindfold the goldfish (if we had one) and take that soak in the tub.
Amongst my lovely Christmas gifts was a new fleecy robe, luxuriant bath salts, and a packet of Royal Jelly Face Firming Sheets. Hey, a girl's gotta do what a girl's gotta do from time to time.
Now, our cat is fascinated with water. It doesn't faze her in the least. Let a tap drip and she'll drink it. Run an inch or so in the bottom of the tub and she'll paddle in it and play with it. I've even had her sit on the counter with her tail flicking through the stream of water running into the basin. On this occasion, she sat watching the proceedings with interest while I set candles in the niche, loaded my favorite Bryan Ferry CD into the player and poured a glass of wine.
All was ready except for the face mask. This I carefully took from the package and patted it on to my carefully cleansed and defoliated face. At this point, the cat was still riveted to the steaming, swirling water, reaching out now and again to pat the surface as if she was testing for heat. I stepped into the
Um, not. A strangled shriek shocked me upright and I opened my eyes to find the cat staring at me with a stricken expression. She reached over from her perch on the edge of the bath, sniffing my face, then reached out a paw and carefully patted my cheek. She then sniffed her paw and looked at me again before letting out a worried little chirp.
Now I never expected this reaction and, rather than being able to continue my lovely soak, the cat's continued and increasing distress gradually got to me. Being on my own I had left the bathroom door open so I could hear Bryan Ferry in all his glory. At this point, our oldest cat meandered into the doorway and stopped, his eyes wide in disbelief when he caught sight of me. He carefully backed away and a moment later he was sitting at the front door crying to be let out.
By now the water had cooled, the candles were burning low, Bryan was on his last track and I needed to get out of the tub to pour another glass of wine anyway. I stepped out, dried myself and shrugged into my lovely, fleecy robe. The final step was to peel off the face mask, splash my face with cool water and pat dry. The cat, now convinced that the alien interloper had departed, begged to be cuddled and snuggled into my shoulder as soon as I picked her up.
Moral of the story? Don't take a spa session with an audience, feline or otherwise!
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