Tonight it was time to–da da dummmm–give Kyra a bath.

She hates baths. I mean, she’s a cat. They’re hard-wired to love attention and hate water. Especially submersion in water.

But John is a tough man and I’m a good helper, and together we can accomplish the bath without too many scratches on our arms and other unprotected body parts.

John’s job is to catch Kyra and hold her down while I soap her up and rinse her off. Tonight, thankfully, Kyra was somewhat peaceful. John and I both came away wet, but with no blood run-off.

Here’s a couple pictures of Kyra just after her bath.

Looks kind of like a porcupine, huh?

Afterward we took her downstairs and fed and watered her and generally tidied up her kitty living area. While we were doing this, Kyra was off in the shadows licking herself down. She made it very clear she wanted nothing to do with us anymore. If we came near her or tried to turn on the light to find her she meowed in a very distinct, angry way that inferred, “How could you do this to me, you evil cat-haters?!”

So we left her alone. She’ll have all night to dry off and cool down, and maybe tomorrow she’ll feel ready for more attention.