i believe i mentioned having a clean bathroom a few posts ago, and in honor of this clean bathroom i decided to take a bath last night. but this was no ordinary bath--this was a Leo bath--complete with a glass of wine, yummy-smelling face mask, lavender-scented bubbly foam, a book, and a veritable legion of rubber duckies. yes--duckies. i pulled all twenty three of them into the tub and let 'em have a rare and wacky swim while i marinated.

Spain was lying in the living room, sleeping on the Inescapable Cat Trap™ while Whoopi Goldberg tried to make people laugh by crashing ethnic stereotypes into one another. yes, i left the TV on for the cat. i was afraid that if i turned it off, she'd wake up and possibly follow to see what i was doing. and as some of you are already aware, Spainy-cat has a homicidal fixation with the duckies.

i don't know which of Spainy's 9 lives i've caught her in, but in one of those previous incarnations she must have been violently assaulted by red, horned duck--and by god, she's going to get even this karmic cycle. but Spain is sadly hampered by a conspicuous absence of red, horned ducks with a taste for cat-flesh, and this has prompted her to seek an effigy. lo, there is just such an effigy sitting in the bathroom a few feet out of her reach--except at bath time--when all duckies are brought down to cat level. unfortunately (for kitty), the duckies always end up in the liquid-filled tub, where Spain is loathe to go. this is no feline that will brave even minor waves, even upon promise of gory duckie vengeance.

so while she lounged in the other room, i filled the tub with bubbles and hot water, tossed in the duckies, poured myself a glass of wine and applied the yummy-smelling face mask. i picked up my book and eased in, toes first for acclimation purposes; then i fully submerged, sinking down against my Mary Kate and Ashley inflatable bath pillow*.

five minutes elapsed before i noticed the ears. like two little black shark's fins they traveled along the side of the tub, sometimes rising enough to reveal the tip of a whiskered nose. then the nose would sniff at the bubbles, twitch with displeasure, and retreat. i slid down lower into the water. surely she had not grown so bold, i thought. but as if to assure me otherwise, one big paw slinked over the edge of the tub and stretched...stretched...far enough to grasp bubbles. the paw quickly withdrew, shaking like it had been slapped.

then a pause for a thorough, furious licking removal of bubble residue.

time for a more friendly approach. she wandered over to my shoulder, raising herself to rest her front paws beside me. she sniffed my face mask and gave my ear a social nibble, all the while pretending that she was most definitely NOT chatting me up to get a good scope of the duckies. ha. as if she has such self-control. she spotted that baby devil duckie within seconds, focusing her glare as if she were a short, hairy bull and the duckie was a matador's cape. "don't even think about it," i warned, largely because i am stupid and optimistic.

but the gears in Spain's head were already turning, and her torso was already shifting--right into my wine glass, which toppled into the tub, dumping cheap chianti into the lavender mix and surprising the hell out of me. compared to the steamy hot bathwater, that wine was freaking COLD--and i didn't appreciate finding it splashed across my chest. i kicked with surprise and the cat took my moment of distraction as a golden opportunity. headlong she dove with both paws out--launching claws through the bubble barrier and grasping the baby duckie before i had a chance to object.

duckie gripped firmly in death jaws of doom, that cat was GONE. on her way out of the bathroom she slipped on the linoleum and did a face-plant into the wall, but the impact was buffeted by the squeaky duckie and the kitty's escape was only barely slowed. she was well out of the bathroom by the time i had a chance to rear up from the tub and give chase. and, like owner like cat; i too slid on the linoleum and went headlong into the wall--but i had no duckie air-bag and i was wearing a smoodgey brown face mask so i left quite an imprint. i also bit my lip, so now i was bleeding, soaking wet, buck naked and giving chase to one felonious feline with a pilfered plastic fowl. why? i don't know--the duckie isn't that precious to me. Spain was running, so i chased her. it's a primal thing, i guess. if it moves away from you, you should try to catch it. maybe it will taste good. or maybe it's just made you mad by interrupting your bath, and you want your damn duckie back.

by the time i made it to the living room, dripping a cocktail of blood, wine and bubble bath solution, Spain was nowhere to be found. then a clatter in the storage room betrayed her position, so i dashed for the hall and did another fine, Olympic-caliber slide right into the "scatter tray" we keep outside her litter box. right. so. covered with lavender bubbles, drooling blood, stained with chianti, and now coated with a thin layer of dirty cat gravel--i cornered the puss behind my bicycle.

squeak. squeak. chew chew chew. squeak. Spainy was working those scissor-like back jaws in a valiant effort to remove duckie head from duckie body. "STOP IT!" i shrieked, reaching for something--anything to chuck since i couldn't really reach her through the wheel spokes. the first object that found its way to my hand was a hammer, but this seemed excessive so i reached again--this time grabbing a half-empty pack of dusting cloths. i deemed the pack suitable for chucking, and Spain deemed it worthy of dodging and hissing at.

she also deemed it frightful enough to run away from.** this turned to be good for the duckie--which she dropped during her gazelle-like flight over the spare trash container and through the forest of brooms, mops and other assorted cleaning implement handles. i seized the duckie and beat a hasty retreat to the bathroom, fearing the cat might double back and grab another unsuspecting toy during my rescue of the first victim. then i drained the tub, returned the duckies to the safety of their shelf and took a shower, because i wasn't interested in making booze and litter soup. besides, we have a detachable shower head, and that thing doubles as an excellent cat-repelling weapon in a pinch.

next time--no matter how pitifully Spain cries, no matter how sadly she scratches at the frame...i'm shutting the door. like Dubya said in that now infamous anecdote, "Fool me once...um...shame on...uh. Fool me twice and...uh...uh...you can't fool me."

~w_w~

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* yeah, shut up. it was purple and cheap. and it has the word "INDULGE" stamped on the front. so i declare it to be COOL.
** note to self: cat is horrified by the scent of lemon pledge.