As for Emily, our little grey weirdo, she not only keeps herself squeaky clean, but she tries to teach me how to do the same. She does this in our bathroom, to which Emily dashes every time she hears me filling the tub. There, she jumps on the sink, or in the sink, and first, for some reason known only to her, sits waiting to be thumped on her furry backside with the roll of paper towel. This accomplished, she allows me to lower myself into the water, which I prefer to showers, and stares down at me curiously.
Her expression seems to say, "Why are you doing that, mate? Don't you know there’s an easier way to clean yourself?" Then she often demonstrates, licking herself and looking at me. "See? You don't have to get into that stuff!"
Lately, Emily is on a new campaign to educate me in efficient bathing. The other day I'd risen from the tub and was towelling off beside the sink when I felt her soft, rough tongue, assisting me in drying my arm."
"I get the message, girl," I said. "But that doesn't work with a human tongue." To demonstrate I licked her forepaw. She looked down at it, disgusted, and licked the results away as I picked fur out of my mouth.
That didn't stop Emily from helping me dry off, the feline way. But I don't do the human equivalent for her anymore. She takes very good care of her own personal dry-cleaning, thank you!
Copyright © Bobcat
August 7, 2004
