Casey Takes a Bath

Kittens are notoriously curious creatures and Casey was no exception. If there was something that you didn’t want him to get into, he'd find a way. No object was beyond his reach. No opening too small. If he was determined, nothing was going to stop him.

Casey was an orange tabby (he passed away recently) with a two sided personality. One moment he was a little angel, purring softly for attention, while lying next to you so you could pet him. The next moment he was a compact cyclone, zipping around the apartment creating complete chaos. Everything in his path was fair game.

When he first came into my life, there were a number of things in my apartment that caught his attention, but, there was one thing that captivated him above and beyond all else. The object of his desire: the toilet.

Since the first day I brought him home, he was dying to know what was under the toilet seat. Every time I walked into the bathroom, he'd jump up there to check it out. He'd paw at the edge of the seat and try to pull it up to no avail. He must have believed there was some great treasure underneath, because when I closed the lid and flushed it, he'd climb up to see what all the noise was about. If I even hinted at opening it, he was there ready to investigate. When I cleaned, the smell of the Lysol would really get his attention. (Yes, my cat would get loopy on Lysol.)

Well, one night I was getting ready for bed at about two in the morning. As I was standing there with the toothbrush in my mouth, I happened to look in the mirror just as Casey's head popped around the corner down the hall from the bathroom. I noticed his ears suddenly perk up and his eyes become really wide. I wondered what had caught his attention this time. Then I saw it -- dumb me, I had left the toilet seat up.

Before I could even think about moving the short, few inches to close the lid, it was too late. Casey was down the hall and airborne -- he performed a perfect swan dive, and went in head first. Ker-splash!!

Now a normal cat might have just relaxed, realized that it wasn't all that deep, and just stood up and got out of there. But Casey was not a normal kitten. No siree. My buddy Casey was the original hyper-active, panic-stricken, wonder-cat.

So instead of getting out of the toilet easily, he went into "freak-out mode," which consisted of doing forward somersaults, flopping around like a fish, twisting and turning a number of different directions, and then turning over on his back, folding himself in half, and sinking to the bottom of the bowl. Once there, he twisted around, got his paws set on the solid surface of the bowl, and then catapulted himself straight up out of the toilet. Then, while still airborne mind you, he began a frantic running motion so that as soon as he hit the ground he had complete forward momentum going. And believe me, once he hit the floor, there was no holding him back. In an instant he was gone – zoom!

Out the bathroom door and down the hall he ran heading straight for, of course -- the bed. He was totally soaked from the point of his nose to the tip of his tail, and he looked like a scrawny little weasel. Up on the bed he jumped and then began shaking himself off, rubbing himself all over the sheets, pillows and blankets, in a frantic attempt to remove every bit of water from his body.

Now there was never any threat of him getting hurt for it all happened within seconds, and as I watched this all unfold, I was laughing hysterically, almost to the point of rolling on the floor. Until he jumped on the bed. That wasn't funny, at least to me.

So now the real fun began -- the chase. I grabbed a towel and headed after him and was just in time to see him really get into his flip-flopping routine on the bed. Then he saw me with the towel and I guess he decided that there was no way I was going to touch him with it, because in an instant he was off and running once again.

Now my apartment wasn't all that big, only 500 square feet or so, but I'd swear we ran at least a mile. He went around the chair, under the chair, over the chair, under the table, up onto the couch, across the couch, under the desk, up onto the desk chair, up onto the desk, across the desk, down onto the table next to the desk, over the TV stand, across the living room floor, with me not far behind. Finally, he went into the kitchen.

"Now I have him," I thought, "Cornered in the kitchen. Only one way in and one way out."

Yeah, right.

I turned the corner and there he was. We looked at each other and I slowly began to advance.

"Easy little buddy, I just want to dry you off and make you feel better," I said.

I began to bend to pick him up with the towel when "zoom" he was under my legs and gone. The chase continued until finally he headed back for the bedroom where he went straight for, of course -- the bed. Ker-thump he landed on the bed and began a new session of his flip-flopping routines.

This time, though, he was so busy on the bed, he forgot about me, and that's where I finally caught him.

I wrapped him up in the towel and softly dried him off a little, but he was still soaked. By now it was 2:30 in the morning and I wanted to get some sleep. "Pop" a light bulb went off in my head.

"I know how I'll dry him," I thought, "I'll use the blow dryer."

Well, there's only one thing I can say about that brainstorm of mine...BIG mistake!

As soon as I flipped the switch and turned the blowdryer on, his hair was on end and his claws were dug in for the duration, imbedded into my arm to the bone.

I turned the dryer off and undid his hold on me, claw by claw. I let him settle down for a few minutes, then turned it on to a gentler setting, and dried him from a distance. It took awhile, but he finally was dried.

Needless to say, we both slept well that night, after I remade the bed.

Next morning when I woke up, guess where I found him? You got it! On top of the toilet scratching away trying to get underneath. You'd think with all he went through just a few hours earlier he'd have learned something. But then again, kittens are notoriously curious creatures, and, without question, Casey was no exception.