I don’t buy into that horse-hockey.

Once a year, The Sam gets a bath, whether he thinks he needs it or not. His fur is thick; his tongue can’t get through it well enough to really cleanse his skin… and with all of the trying, no matter how much we brush him, he may still get a hairball. Hairballs aren’t just gross; they can actually be fatal: they can get stuck in a kitty’s stomach, and they can actually block his food digestion. Brushing him a lot helps, and giving him hairball-paste a couple of times a week is great… but once a year, a real scrubby-bubble bath is required.

When we visited The Sam at the kennel yesterday, I was talking to Kim (one of The Sam’s caretakers/girlfriends) about it. She said, “Oh, I can give him a bath, if you want!”

“You’re a very brave lady,” I said. “He doesn’t even like it when I bathe him.” (He’s never scratched me, but he gets angry and screams like he’s being impaled or something!)

Kim smiled. “I have a little harness I can put on him, to keep him in the tub here… we can do it tomorrow, if you want to help…”

“Okay,” I said. “As long as it’s a nice, sunny day. Then, he can lay out afterward, to dry off.”

This morning I woke up, opened the blinds, and thought to myself, it’s a nice, sunny, warm summer day. It’s a perfect day to give a kitty a much-needed bath.

Ken and I cleaned our selves up, grabbed a nice, clean towel, and drove to the kennel.

Kim said hi to us as we walked in. “He’s been out all morning while I cleaned up in there… I think he’s napping now.”

I smiled. The Sam follows Kim around while she cleans. Ken and I have been thinking that Kim is his favourite.

“Hiya, Handsome,” I said, as Ken unlocked the kitty condo and our big pile of grey and white fur bonked my forehead with his. “Let’s brush you out and get you ready for bath time, okay?”

Behind me, Kim said, “Oh, I brushed him out just before I put him back in his condo. He really likes brushing, huh?”

“It’s one of his favourite things,” Ken said. Ken loves to brush The Sam.

Kim put him into this little harness that fit around his belly. A thin chain was hooked onto it (kind of like a mini-leash), and that was locked onto a metal ring in the wall, just above the hip-level tub. The Sam looked curious.

Then he felt the water. The Sam looked pissed.

“This is oatmeal shampoo,” Kim said. “It’s very gentle… and it smells really good.”

She squirted it all over him, and then, with a plastic massager, Kim began lathering up The Sam. Not too gentle, not too rough.

I washed his face while Kim took care of the rest of him.

He purred.

The Sam didn’t like the rinsing off part as much as he did the lathering bit… but he didn’t scratch or hiss once.

Kim took a towel out of the dryer and wrapped it around The Sam. He purred again.  She took off the harness and lifted him out of the tub. He looked like a big furry baby in a receiving blanket… and he was giving us all kisses. He smelled wonderful!

We took turns brushing him out and toweling him. Then, Ken and I took The Sam out for his little nature walk while Kim took care of a new customer. He chewed on some grass for a minute or two, and hung out in the sun. Mostly, he licked himself and shook himself off.

When we came back inside, Kim was changing out The Sam’s bedding: he has a cuddle-bed now, and extra towels (He has a thing for towels). She gave him some hairball paste, too… the malt flavour that he loves.

After we said our good-byes to The Sam, I told Kim, “I’m pretty sure you’re his favourite.”

She giggled. “He’s my favourite.”

His time at my husband’s cousin’s house was coming to an end (July 1st), and neither my husband nor I were employed (I’ve since found a job, but I do not start until July 12th). Our savings is completely gone. No apartment (that allows cats) is in sight.

The Sam was going to be homeless.  

Then, about a week ago, my FIL suggested that we keep him in the garage (which is detached from the building and has no windows)… no light, no fresh air… in JULY! I was horrified… but I understand, my FIL isn’t a “pet person”, and housecats freak him out. He thought that the garage was a valid option. He could be evicted if we were caught sneaking The Sam into the apartment, so that was out of the question.

I crawled into bed and sobbed some more. About half an hour later, I heard the front door open and close. I thought my two guys left, but they were returning (I just hadn’t heard them leave… I sob LOUDLY) from a kennel. My FIL offered to pay for The Sam to be put in the kennel for one month (I’d have to pay for any additional time). I wasn’t sure how I felt about it; I wanted to check the place out for myself.

Ken and I visited the kennel the next day (It had been closed when he and his dad had gone there, so all that we really knew was that it wasn’t too expensive). I was really impressed. First of all, it’s about a five-minute drive away (much closer than Ken’s cousin’s house). It’s family-owned, and the family lives on the premises. The place is fairly large and surrounded by woods. It is beautiful!

We stepped inside and met one of the owners, a pretty blonde lady named Gina. She took us on a tour. The first thing I noticed was that it smelled nice in there – NOT what I expected at all! The whole place is spotless. The Sam would have his own “condo”… and because he is a large kitty, and he’d be there for an extended stay, he’d get a “doublewide” for the same price. The cost of food (they serve Iams) is included, as is litter (they clean the litter boxes every day) and really nice bedding (they have a large washer and dryer there, and the bedding is changed out every week). AND… The Sam would have a beautiful view of the woods (all of the kitty condos are by windows). We can visit any time we want during their business hours.

We made the reservation.

Thursday, July 1st, we brought The Sam to his new temporary digs. I was almost in tears the whole drive over; The Sam has been through a lot this past year. I was afraid of how he would react to a new place. Better than homeless or in the garage, I kept reminding myself.

We checked him in (had to show proof of vaccination), and then Gina led us to the kitty condo room. After she closed the doors (we didn’t want him wandering off to the dog condos), we set his carrier down and opened it.

I knelt down, arms outstretched, expecting some emotional… something… from this cat who has been through so much in the last six months. I’m his Mommy; when he is upset, he comes to me.

The Sam left his carrier, walked past me, and climbed up into Gina’s arms.

The woman melted as he started giving her lovey-dovey head-butts.

Ken laughed a little. I was too jealous to do anything but stare with my mouth open.

“Ohhh,” Gina cooed, “You’re just a big sweetie, aren’t you?”

The Sam answered with a mixed purr-meow… the sound normally reserved for me.

Gina put The Sam down – reluctantly, I could tell – to let him explore his new lodgings. As he did that, she and I talked. Or, rather, she talked and I nodded:

“He’s so gentle! Whatta cutie-pie! I’ll be able to let him out in the afternoons while I’m cleaning in here. Don’t worry; I always close the doors first, so he won’t be able to get out or anything… but we can play, so he’ll get plenty of exercise and… Ohhh… look at him! He’s so cute!”

The Sam came over, sat at her toes and lifted his front paws to her (kind of like a dog begging). Gina re-melted. She patted his head and the cooing continued: “You’re so haaaaaaaandsommmme!”

I rolled my eyes. Unbelievable.

Before Ken and I left, we locked him into his kitty-condo-with-a-view, along with his favourite towel (The Sam has always had a thing for towels), and a couple of his favourite toys. After Ken said his good-byes, The Sam gave me a kiss through the little gate.

“I love you,” I said. “Be a good boy.” I always say that to him, whenever I leave to go anywhere (work, to pick up Ken, shopping, etc.). Usually he just yawns, as if to say, “Yeah, yeah, yeah, Mommy… gonna get some sleep…” But this time?

The little shit winked at me. (I don’t believe in reincarnation, but if I did, I’d swear my cat is Cousin Steve!)

On Friday, July 2nd, Ken and I went up to visit The Sam. Two ladies who work there, Kim and Katie, met us.

“Hi,” I said. “We’re just here to visit our cat…”

“Which cat is yours?” Kim asked.

“The Sam,” I said.

You would have thought I said, “Johnny Depp is here.”

Through much squealing and giggling, they said (I couldn’t tell you which girl said what):

“Ohhh! He’s the cute, chubby one! He’s such a sweetheart! I could just cuddle with him all day! He’s such a good kitty! He’s so gentle! You’re so lucky!”

Oh, my. Mommy-pride made me feel like I was floating to the kitty condo room.

After a brief cuddle with Ken and me, The Sam climbed up onto Kim’s lap.

“Hiya, handsome,” she purred as he head-butted her chin.

“That’s what I always say to him,” I said. I smiled, hoping I didn’t sound like a jealous girlfriend.

We stayed an hour, grooming, playing, and cuddling. The Sam didn’t put up a fuss when it was time to go back into his condo. He said good-bye to Ken and then bonked his forehead against mine. He gave me the purr-meow that I love so much.

I kissed his forehead. “I love you,” I said. “Be a good boy.”

He winked at me.

I rolled my eyes and then kissed him again. “I don’t know what I was worried about,” I whispered into the gray fur of his forehead. The Sam moved to his window; Katie was outside, hanging bird feeders on the trees. She waved to him and blew him a kiss.

Unbelievable.

The 4th of July is The Sam’s birthday. He is ten years old today… and today is twelve years that Ken and I have lived together. This is the first time that the three of us will not be together to celebrate.

It’s weird… but I’m sleeping a bit better, knowing that The Sam is safe, happy… and well cared for by pretty ladies who know how special he is.

The little shit.