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thebitterguySo, today was tidy up day around Casa Mohareb. Although rain kept us from doing backyard maintenance (removing the rear deck & planting new flowers), we did get to patch up the paint within the house.
And THAT, dear friends, is where the trouble started.
As you can tell from the two photos above, we have two cats. While Snra. Bitter was painting the flooring beneath the bannister at the top of the stairs, the smaller of the two, Khem, expressed some interest in what she was doing.
Hey, no problem. All creatures should show an interest in their surroundings, right? Right!
What they SHOULDN'T do is dash through the wet paint.
Khem got paint all over her rear paws, and as she dashed away, leaving tiny little paw prints, we frantically tried to figure out what to do. I called the local Emergency Vets, and they told us to wash her paws off with dishwater detergent.
Because, let me tell you, there's NOTHING in the world cats love more than taking a bath. Nothing.
So, Snra fills up the tub with exactly 11 millimetres of water, while I bring the cat into the bathroom. Cats have a preternatural sense of when they're about to have a bath. It's almost as if they can sense your fear of impending clawmarks that cut down to the bone.
Snra held Khem up by her front leg pits, tightly, so as to prevent Khem from using her martial arts charm of "Luminous swiveling head and snapping jaws". After repeated application/removals of Palmolive Apple Orchard, her paws were finally free of the toxic wall covering dye.
At the time, Khem's lower body appeared to have lost about a third of its mass, due to the unlucky fact that she's a cat and is hence hair, pasted onto a pipe cleaner frame.
We apologetically dried her off, and left her to glare at us for a while.
We had chicken for dinner, and will make Chicken Ala King tomorrow.
The End.
And THAT, dear friends, is where the trouble started.
As you can tell from the two photos above, we have two cats. While Snra. Bitter was painting the flooring beneath the bannister at the top of the stairs, the smaller of the two, Khem, expressed some interest in what she was doing.
Hey, no problem. All creatures should show an interest in their surroundings, right? Right!
What they SHOULDN'T do is dash through the wet paint.
Khem got paint all over her rear paws, and as she dashed away, leaving tiny little paw prints, we frantically tried to figure out what to do. I called the local Emergency Vets, and they told us to wash her paws off with dishwater detergent.
Because, let me tell you, there's NOTHING in the world cats love more than taking a bath. Nothing.
So, Snra fills up the tub with exactly 11 millimetres of water, while I bring the cat into the bathroom. Cats have a preternatural sense of when they're about to have a bath. It's almost as if they can sense your fear of impending clawmarks that cut down to the bone.
Snra held Khem up by her front leg pits, tightly, so as to prevent Khem from using her martial arts charm of "Luminous swiveling head and snapping jaws". After repeated application/removals of Palmolive Apple Orchard, her paws were finally free of the toxic wall covering dye.
At the time, Khem's lower body appeared to have lost about a third of its mass, due to the unlucky fact that she's a cat and is hence hair, pasted onto a pipe cleaner frame.
We apologetically dried her off, and left her to glare at us for a while.
We had chicken for dinner, and will make Chicken Ala King tomorrow.
The End.
