It all started with us not even leaving the house (while I am not fond of traveling in the box, I rather thought we would be going to the masseuse). So I figured they must have hired someone that does house calls - how simply lovely that I would not have to go anywhere!
But then Jess picked me up and brought me into the bathroom. Then she put me into the gigantic white box with glass doors and got in with me. I had no idea what she was up to.
Imagine my horror when she turned on the shower and aimed the horrible wet stuff at me! I’ve checked the tags, people: Cats are Dry Clean Only! I tried to get as far away from it as I could, but I was trapped in the space.
Before I knew it she was using the long, windy tube to douse me with the foul stuff, then she poured baby shampoo (I kid you not) and really rubbed it in (one should always ask permission before one starts rubbing a guy all over like that!). She even scrubbed my, ahem, you know.
It seemed to go on forever. I can tell you I had a lot to say about this shabby treatment - she is no Sven!
Finally I was released from this torture chamber and allowed to run away. My brother tried to help me get the foul stuff off me (very kind of him as I cannot reach everywhere) but it took hours before I felt myself once more. Luckily this shame was only shared by family!
In the end, I do admit it was nice to feel so clean (though I will never admit that to my people). I just hope I don’t have to do it again any time soon!