Santa Cat

Lu-Tze likes to sit in the empty spa-bath. He loves to play with a dripping tap. When he tries to get close to where the drips burst on the base, those vexatious droplets hit the back of his head in a most provocative manner. Drips are exciting.

Lu-Tze is not familiar with large volumes of water, so I shall tell you of his Christmas Eve adventure.

After a long day of trying to make HouseOfVirge clean and safe for relatives, WifeOfVirge and DaughterOfVirge were luxuriating in the spa. We have no snow at Christmas here, but the spa-ing partners had added enough bubble-bath solution to create deep snowy landscapes with snowmen, bobsled runs, and even a possibility of a snowstorm should anyone sneeze. I opened the door to let Lu-Tze into the bathroom, to see the winter wonderland.

"Lift him up so he can see all the foam. We don't want him jumping in like he does when it's empty," said WifeOfVirge.

I lifted him and stood his paws on the tiled edge of the spa-bath. He stared at the foam and the talking heads that protruded from it. His eyes were wide. I could feel his heartbeat. I didn't want to stress him, so I lowered him to the floor and he walked away. Half way to the bathroom door, Lu-Tze turned--two bounds and a spring over the side of the spa into the foam--and vanished.

We fished him straight out--a bedraggled Santa Cat, complete with white beard. I washed his suds off in a basin then wrapped him in a towel.
Wet Cat
Not So Wet Cat

Apart from the shock, I don't think he minded the dunking at all. He didn't complain during his toweling off. Once he was dry, he curled up on my lap and went to sleep.

The bathroom door stays shut for future spas.