Near Death Experience

We have two wonderful cats-Helix and Galileo who are like children to us right now. They are about 1.5 years old now, and we've had them since they were 5 weeks old. We've taken good care of them-they have their shots, have been neutered and we bathe them about twice a month to keep their coats shiny and the shedding to a minimum (this is particularly an issue with Galileo).



Bathing a cat is already an ordeal. First off, you have to act as if nothing is going on. We pre-run a warm bath of about 3-4 inches of water and have a pile of towels handy before we round up the cats. I take Galileo and Chris gets Helix. And then the fun begins. As soon as we get the two cats into the bathroom and shut the door they realize what is about to happen. Both cats produce 4 full sets of claws and frantically grab for anything to hold on to. On this particular day, Galileo manages to grab hold of Chris' towel from his morning shower and quickly scales it to the top of the shower curtain (it was hanging over the shower curtain rod). Once there he balances precociously before making a wild leap for the sink across the room. He makes it, but I grab him shortly there after, get a better grip on his feet and introduce him to the bath.

By this time, Helix is already lathered up and is in the process of being rinsed by Chris. As I lather up Galileo with kitty shampoo, Helix makes an attempt at escape, which fails, but manages to get some bathtub waves in motion. Helix apparently gets a mouthful of water and in an attempt to cough out the water, hunches over as if coughing up a hairball. The problem with this is that there is a bathtub full of water. So he dunks his head into the water, only to breathe in water. He went completely limp and sunk to the bottom of the tub. I swear to you this all took place in a matter of 3 seconds. Chris grabs him and brings him out of the tub, but Helix isn't breathing and his entire body is convulsing. Chris begins his version of cat CPR, trying to push the water out of his lungs. I leave Galileo, fully lathered, jump over Chris and run for the phone and the vet's number (Galileo, of course, takes this opportunity to leap out of the bath and make a run for it). By the time I return upstairs with the vet on the line, Helix is breathing, thank God. After briefly explaining the situation to the vet and getting a rather accusatory lecture on how not to give one's cat a bath, the vet says if Helix is breathing, he'll probably be fine and we get off the phone with him. Obviously, Helix is not very happy. We do our best to dry him off, but he spent the rest of the night sneezing and glaring at Chris with his ears back. Galileo, who had curled up first on my laptop (!) and then on the open phone book, soaking wet, had to be reintroduced to the bath, this time in the kitchen sink, to rinse off the rest of the soap. I have a feeling that these two are never going to let us give them a bath again!

And poor Chris. He spent a good 45 minutes trying to make up with Helix. Telling him how sorry he was and petting him. No luck, still nothing but glares and ears pressed back against his head. Later he tells me that when we have kids, I shouldn't let him bathe out children. He might drown them, like he nearly did to Helix. Of course, I tell him 'that is complete nonsense' and not to be so hard on himself. All the while thinking, 'what if that had been our kid?!'

If cats really do have 9 lives, Helix is down to 8.