Hejsa.
Denne her fandt jeg på den norske hundegruppe... den oprindelige poster
ville gerne forklare, hvorfor han til enhver tid foretrak hunde... Må
indrømme at jeg fuldt ud forstår ham!!!
Go' læsning...
Mvh Ann
Cat Bathing as a Martial Art
by Bud Herron
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 you 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-sleeve 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 that 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 is -
for
cats - 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
your 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.