Sarah Nigbor

Maybe learning lessons the hard way is sometimes a good thing. I’m guessing the lesson learned is more likely to stick. I know that is true for my kids this weekend.

The three youngest, especially Dawson (he’s 13) is always begging to give the cat a bath. I am not sure why he thought this would be so fun. Hasn’t he ever heard that cats don’t like water? He knows that now.

Snuggles is the sweetest, most cuddly cat we’ve ever owned. He is a small, long-haired tom cat with white and black markings. He’s mostly puffy fur, which makes him look like he has a little pair of furry pants on. He chirps with happiness continuously throughout the day and loves to be held and scratched under his chin. He scarcely weighs 10 pounds.

However, put him near a tub and he turns into a whirlwind of teeth, claws and howling. The docile, loving eyes become daggers of hatred and terror. His sweet little mouth turns into a gaping maw of jagged teeth. Hanging onto him during a bath is like trying to grasp a greased pig (Dawson should know, as he loves that event at El Paso Days).

As parents sometimes do, I gave in. I was tired of the begging and I figured they wouldn’t die from the experience, so I said yes. Why, oh why did I say yes? Especially after my husband had just cleaned the bathroom. Hindsight is 20/20.

Snuggles snuggled into Dawson’s arms, but his eyes grew wide as he neared the bathroom and heard the water going. I know it may seem cruel, but he truly needed a bath. We brush him often, but sometimes he gets little mats in his fur that he and we cannot get out. He’s good at grooming, but it had been a long while since he had a bath. His vet recommends twice a year or so.

The three kids quickly shepherded him into the bathroom, slammed the door and the fun commenced. For almost 20 minutes I heard nothing but shrieks, splashes and the most deep, gut-wrenching howls from my darling Snuggles. I listened carefully, giggling to myself the entire time, because I knew what they were in for – and they didn’t believe me. I have a 4-inch scar on my chest to prove how fun cat bath time is.

No one was maimed or scratched, but when the three emerged from the bathroom holding Snuggles, who looked like a skinny, deranged rat, they had sheepish looks on their faces. Their clothes were soaked, their hair disheveled and they were covered in wet cat hair stuck all over their bodies. As I comforted poor Snuggie, gently toweling off his luxurious fur, the kids all changed clothes and removed the 50 towels (I’m exaggerating slightly) from the bathroom. Snuggles soon regained his sweet personality and sat on my lap purring as he dried into his fluffball self. He was rewarded with a special supper.

But when I walked in the bathroom, I almost had a stroke. The once pristine bathroom was a sea of matted cat hair, water and more towels. I couldn’t decide if it looked like a crime scene or a battlefield. As Snuggles studied me through his slitted eyes, I could almost hear him saying “See what happens when you dare to give me a bath?”

The kids all admitted I was right and vowed to never go through a cat bath experience again. As I helped them clean up the nightmare scene, I wondered if maybe it wasn’t me who learned the hard way. Don’t give in to kids’ bad ideas!