I washed Socks today. No, I don't mean the clothing socks. I mean black cat (well, almost entirely black) cat named Socks.
I don't make a habit of washing our cats. In fact this is the first time in my entire life that I have ever washed a cat. But Socks is very oily and I've been thinking for a while that he needed a bath, so today I finally did it.
I got very wet in the process. lol
I didn't wash him as thoroughly as I had wanted to, though, because of the tone of his meows. Not because they were "I am very irritated" meows or even "I am going to bite you" meows. No, his meows said "This is scary. I am a rather frightened kitty."
Socks was in the kitchen sink for two minutes, tops. Probably not even that long. But that was more than enough for him, so far as he was concerned.
And there are two things that amaze me. 1) Socks didn't bite me, even though he's a biter. He'll bite even when he's pleased with a person, just randomly. Ok, so he did bite, but only after about five minutes of me helping him dry off. And it was one of those random bites, not a "I can't believe you did that to me!" bite. 2) As soon as I set Socks down on the towel and started helping him to dry off he forgave me.
Cats. I've lived around them my entire life, and Socks has been with me since I was in first grade, but they can still surprise me. But life would probably be pretty boring if I knew everything. :)