It’s hard to type with a large, heavy, needy, kneady, somewhat smelly body trying to suck the front of your sweatshirt. Digit is the terror of the neighborhood (thus the smell of dirt on his coat) but is the quintessential pansy at home. He hisses and spits and acts like he hates Adah and is going to send her on to her maker in about fourteen seconds, and she just rolls her eyes and walks right by him to the food bowl.
So Digit’s on me right now. Adah, however, is on the bed, still sleeping off last night’s indignity. She a bathtub cat. I know. You can hear it coming, can’t you? Every night she sits on the edge of the tub and I pet her with one wet hand and hold the New Yorker with the other. Two years we’ve done this. Never a problem.
Last night, the bath was WAY too hot, so I was edging myself in, and she thought it was petting time. I gave her a cursory pat while trying to breathe through the scalding heat. She thought it was a real pet, leaned in and slipped.
Luckily, she wasn’t injured. Luckily, *I* wasn’t injured. She managed to hurl herself up and out of the water without using me for purchase, thank god. She started to bolt and then stopped, standing completely still in the middle of the bathroom, water running from her soggy legs and bottom. I think she was just trying to make it all go away. I laughed so hard for so long that Digit actually walked into the bathroom (he generally avoids that room). He stared at me laughing, put his tail down and stalked out. I laughed ‘til I cried. Am I terrible? Adah still isn’t over it. I hope she does get over it, though. There’s nowhere nicer to pet a kitty who drools than in the tub. You can wash your hand right off and start over.
Off to work today – yep, it’s a day off, but they needed a quick 8 hour slot of OT filled because someone called in sick, and I’m happy to do it. Christmas is coming and the purse is slim. Need to money.
New knitting update tomorrow, I promise. Happy y’all have found the secret. It’s like a big blog scavenger hunt, no? Happy day to you.
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