The Bath

I stared at his intense seaweed green eyes. He was purring excitedly
even though he was obviously pissed. He just loved our girl so much and
was so happy to be on her lap, for the moment he seemed to forget he
was soaking wet and it was her fault.

I on the other hand, would not stand for such a thing. I saw him
sitting patiently while she wet him down. No real fights - I would have
put up a fight - I would have clawed her eyes out before she could get
me wet ... no matter how much I loved her, and how well she fed me.

But not Socrates. He purred instead, vibrating the entire room. I
never understood cats like him. They don't understand the true freedom
it is to be a cat. The freedom to kick ugly sweaters off onto the
stovetop; to claw at intrusive, dirty hands of a child; the warding off
of any unwanted human interaction. That is what separates us cats from
dogs.

I watched him, wanting to smirk at his stupidity, but realizing I
had nothing to laugh at, I glared instead. He was enjoying himself too
much. What a waste of time, I hissed, walking gracefully away, to clean myself as any decent feline would - by tongue.

I walked past the human bathroom, where remnants
of the horrible deed still lingered. The smell of lavender shampoo and
wet cat filled the air. I cantered past the grotesque scene on my way
to my bed.

It was time for a nap. The bed was unmade, because, as usual my girl
hadn't gotten around to making it for me yet. I had to tenderize the
comforter to get it fluffed just right, before finally settling down in
relaxation.

Not ten human-minutes had passed, or so I presume, when I was rudely
awakened by human paws descending upon me. I was plucked from my
slumber and pulled into the smelly depths of Hell. Lavender was
prominent in the air.

Yet I found myself intrigued to let my girl carry me to the big
torture tub. I felt inclined to lay upon her comfy lap as she let the
water run. It had a peaceful hum etching into my brain. A beat I could
almost tap to, if no one was watching. But oh how that lavender stunk.
I noticed Socrates staring at me with those eyes. Those eyes too
soft-green to be of any normal cat.

Then, she began petting me. My human was petting with her wet hands,
she was combing my back, capturing tiny insects upon my back. That was
ok, those things bothered me anyway. I would have stayed the whole time
too, except she had to get out that damn lavender bottle.

I am much smarter than my girl. She couldn't find me again 'til dinnertime.