At the risk of grossing out anyone, I always bathe the cats in the kitchen
sink.  Better leverage.

Jo

I forgot to tell you to wear body armor and a leather face mask ;)

 The odd thing was, I thought she was a white cat before,

Good luck with the future bathing & treatments!

Jill <---not recommending you try to blow-dry her

Concatulations on your bravery, if not your intelligence :-)

Hadn't you thought to wear welding apron & gloves, plus
armour, plus riot shield & assorted additional protection?

Still, thankfully you're still alive & will be better prepared next
time.

Purrs that you both come through OK.

Gordon (who only ever tried it once & learned from his mistake)
& the FF (3 who'd be Frenzied Furies if I tried to bathe them,
although the Fourth, Raki the D-pet, quite likes baths).

The first cat we ever had to give a bath to was Ivy (RB), and she *WAILED*.
Our bath tub is the older cast aluminum (covered in white enamel), and man
did that amplify her.  This was a flea bath, so we didn't *want* to give her
the bath, but it was a necessity at the time (this was before Frontline &
Advantage came out).  Ivy was a little cat, barely weighing in at 7lbs when
wet - but that voice!  And she hooked one of her front claws into the sking
on my right arm - it went in and then came back out again like a fish hook
would.  And she wouldn't release her grip and let me get it out.  it was a
major ouchie!  And I still have a barely discernable scar.

The only others that I've given a bath to were Ernie, Mimi, Minnie & Moe,
when they were little-uns and had ringworm.  They were still small enough
that I could hold them in one hand and dowse them with the other (with the
hand-held shower nozzle).  They didn't claw or bite, but they did curl up
around the hand that was holding them, and *WAIL*.  It was kinda funny as
Ernie has a little squeaky voice, but his sisters have the full-bodied
cat-holler.

Here's purring that Pua gets over the ringworm, and that none of us *ever*
have to bathe a cat again :D

The following was posted in 1998, I don't remember who by.

Some people say cats never have to be bathed. They say cats lick
themselves
clean. They say cats have a special enzyme of some sort in their saliva
that
works like new, improved Wisk - dislodging the dirt where it hides and
whisking it away.

I've spent most of my life believing this folklore. Like most blind
believers, I've been able to discount all the facts to the contrary, the
kitty odors that lurk in the corners of the garage and dirt smudges that
cling to the throw rug by the fireplace.

The time comes, however, when a man must face reality: when he must look
squarely in the face of massive public sentiment to the contrary and
announce: "This cat smells like a port-a-potty on a hot day in Juarez."

When that day arrives at your house, as it has in mine, I have some
advice
you might consider as you place your feline friend under your arm and
head
for the bathtub:

**Know that although the cat has the advantage of quickness and lack of
concern for human life, you have the advantage of strength. Capitalize
on
that advantage by selecting the battlefield. Don't try to bathe him in
an
open area where he can force you to chase him. Pick a very small
bathroom.
If your bathroom is more than four feet square, I recommend that you get
in
the tub with the cat and close the sliding-glass doors as if you were
about
to take a shower. (A simple shower curtain will not do. A berserk cat
can
shred a three-ply rubber shower curtain quicker than a politician can
shift
positions.)

**Know that a cat has claws and will not hesitate to remove all the skin
from your body. Your advantage here is that you are smart and know how
to
dress to protect yourself. I recommend canvas overalls tucked into
high-top
construction boots, a pair of steel-mesh gloves, an army helmet, a
hockey
face mask, and a long-sleeved flak jacket.

**Prepare everything in advance. There is no time to go out for a towel
when
you have a cat digging a hole in your flak jacket. Draw the water.
Make sure the bottle of kitty shampoo is inside the glass enclosure.
Make
sure the towel can be reached, even if you are lying on your back in the
water.

**Use the element of surprise. Pick up your cat nonchalantly, as if to
simply carry him to his supper dish. (Cats will not usually notice your
strange attire. They have little or no interest in fashion as a rule. If
he
does notice your garb, calmly explain that you are taking part in a
product
testing experiment for J.C. Penney.)

Once you are inside the bathroom, speed is essential to survival. In a
single liquid motion, shut the bathroom door, step into the tub
enclosure,
slide the glass door shut, dip the cat in the water and squirt him with
shampoo. You have begun one of the wildest 45 seconds of your life.

**Cats have no handles. Add the fact that he now has soapy fur, and the
problem is radically compounded. Do not expect to hold on to him for
more
than two or three seconds at a time. When you have him, however, you
must
remember to give him another squirt of shampoo and rub like crazy. He'll
then spring free and fall back into the water, thereby rinsing himself
off.
(The national record for cats is three latherings, so don't expect too
much.)

Next, the cat must be dried. Novice cat bathers always assume this part
will
be the most difficult, for humans generally are worn out at this point
and
the cat is just getting really determined. In fact, the drying is
simple compared to what you have just been through. That's because by
now
the cat is semipermanently affixed to your right leg. You simply pop the
drain plug with you foot, reach for your towel and wait. (Occasionally,
however, the cat will end up clinging to the top of your army helmet. If
this happens, the best thing you can do is to shake him loose and to
encourage him toward your leg.) After all the water is drained from the
tub,
it is a simple matter to just reach down and dry the cat.

In a few days the cat will relax enough to be removed from your leg. He
will
usually have nothing to say for about three weeks and will spend a lot
of
time sitting with his back to you. He might even become psychoceramic
and
develop the fixed stare of a plaster figurine.

You will be tempted to assume he is angry. This isn't usually the case.
As a
rule he is simply plotting ways to get through your defenses and injure
you
for life the next time you decide to give him a bath.

But at least now he smells a lot better.

Yeah, they sure do wail... I've bathed many a cat, and they've all wailed.
Some, thank Bast, do no more than wail.

The most successful method I've used involves two people. One person holds
the cat, the other scrubs and rinses her. And you must use a sink, rather
than a bathtub.

The holding part can be done so as to minimize clawing injuries. Have her
back facing you and one hand holding both front legs, the other holding both
hind legs and the tail. Without the freedom to move the tail, the cat is at
a disadvantage and will slow down as long as you manage to keep hold of all
the legs and tail. The grip has to be firm, of course, or the cat will
wriggle away.

Cradle the cat with the front of your body as you slowly lower her into a
sink pre-filled with about six inches of clean warm water. Water running
from a faucet seems to frighten a cat who is facing a bath, so have some
plastic jugs or pitchers already filled with rinse water, before you start
the bath.

Talk to her as you lower her into the water, so she will be somewhat
distracted, and the other person can stroke her head, too. If this is done
artfully, the cat will scarcely notice being immersed.

If you can maintain the hold I have described, you will be able to roll the
cat onto both sides so your helper can reach every part.

Drain the sink while the cat is still in it. Helper then pours warm rinse
water gently over all parts of the cat, and, when finished, places the towel
between you and the cat and wraps the cat as you lift her out of the sink.

I hope this helps. And I wanna see .jpgs of your whiter baby girl. ;)

Maybe this is not the thread where I should point out that Smokey
doesn't give a crap about whether the bathtub is full or empty--he just
sits there, chest deep in water, just kinda pokin', and lets us lather
him all over.

He did writhe when his paws hit water, but as soon as his paws touched
bottom and he realized the water wasn't going to be over his head, he
stopped caring.

Maybe instead I could think about how we don't DARE give Nox a bath.

--Fil

PS I hope Pua does well :)

Well done, Kili.  I have never bathed a cat before-- takes fortitude!
We can already see Pua is a beauty. ;)


Theresa
Stinky Pictures: http://community.webshots.com/album/125591586JWEFwh
My Blog: http://www.humanitas.blogspot.com

Well, it was sure entertaining for us to read!

Lots of purrs for the bath to help with the ringworm,