Asking for It, Part 2

If Huw asked to be launched into the drink in one way, Rhadwen did this evening in another.

I try to be considerate of the kittehs. If my big calico decides the bathroom sink's the most comfortable spot in the house when the temperature's in the 90s, who am I to dispute her choice?

But sometimes I have to use the wash basin. And if she won't get out when I ask politely, a trickle of cold water can be an incentive for her to let me have the use of my property.

That happened enough times today that by early evening Rhadwen was already a pretty damp cat.

And I've noticed a brown dirty spot on her white fur that she's not been attending to.

That does it! She's getting a bath!

And she did.

I have to wonder if there's something wrong with her. She didn't scratch me at all. In fact, when I lifted her up to wash her tummy, she put her little paws up like small child that wants its mommy to pick it up.

She's clean now, but it bothers me that she hasn't done all that much towards licking herself smooth. She's let herself dry all spiky and punk, and was very happy to let me go over her with the grooming brush.

I'm hoping it's because she doesn't like the smell of the new cat shampoo. She seems okay otherwise . . . I mean, she's eating and drinking and all . . . and jumping on and off the bed and the sofa and the dining room table and everywhere as usual . . . But if she won't groom herself, that's gotta mean something's wrong.

Right?

Meaning the next thing Rhadwen might be asking for is a trip to the vet.