Oh how I remember having to bathe a cat. My poor cat, Milo, was only about 2 months old when we took him home from my outside my sisters apartment. His family had moved away and just left him there. Anyway, he was a kitten but not tiny. He'd been living "rough" for a couple of weeks or so, and he needed to be bathed, or so I thought. Bad idea. My poor back and neck caught the brunt of it when the kitten thought I was going to drown him. Maybe someone had tried it already or something. Anyway, he got the biggest eyes I've EVER seen on a cat, and took off over the top of my head and down my back. There are still scars on my shoulder and back. I should have just let him go but no, stupid human that I am, I hung on to him for dear life. We had him for seven years until he was hit by a car, in the middle of the night, which was speeding up our street. I hate people who speed on residential streets.
There has to be a special place in hell for people who do this, and then leave what they have done behind them to suffer and die in the road.
I totally agree with you about that special hell for those kinds of people.
ReplyDeleteSorry to hear about the loss of such a (relatively) young cat. Losing an animal is always difficult, they are like family, but I think losing a pet under such circumstances is even worse. :-(
I couldn't agree more, Karen.
ReplyDeleteAlso, because of the way he died, I decided that Milo was my last cat. I love the the little guys but they fight like tigers to be outside if they have once been feral, and he was so happy with his neighborhood, and they with him. My friend used to leave him special treats on the edge of his brick wall in the mornings.