Muffin is generally not too much of a nuisance. He stays inside and sleeps for most of the day. At night he likes to snuggle up next to me for warmth, although that sometimes leads to me waking up with a cat butt in my face the next morning. It's true that Muffin has weekly vomiting episodes and every now and then will wake me up at 4 in the morning because he is screaming at a stray cat outside the apartment, but even Betsy has admitted that she grew a little soft spot for Muffin.
So when Muffin ran away last Tuesday evening and didn't come back, we were both shocked.
What happened was this: I had some students over for dinner, and Muffin was actually having a lot of fun jumping into their laps and being pet. For some unknown reason, however, when they opened the door to leave, Muffin dashed outside, ran down the stairs, paused for one moment to look back at me and meow a goodbye, and disappeared into the night. I ran down the stairs after him, but by the time I got to the bottom, Muffin was nowhere to be found.
Now let's remember, it is 32 degrees outside at night here, so it's literally freezing. Muffin has never lived outside before. In addition, Muffin is at least like 10 years old. He can't even catch mice. There is just no freaking way Muffin can survive out on the streets of Guiyang, so Betsy and I both assumed that Muffin would come crawling back home later in the night.
Well, the whole night passed, and then a whole day, and then another three nights and three days, and still no sign of Muffin. We had all pretty much lost hope.
This brings us to Saturday night. I'm in the kitchen putting some tortilla chips on my plate to make some nachos. Wendi, our teammate who was sleeping over at my place that night, was to my right, grabbing herself a plate. Betsy is walking into the kitchen when she asks, "Hey, should we have a memorial service for Muffin?"
We decide to throw a little service for Muffin at some undetermined time in the future and settle down for our girls' night. Three plates of nachos, one bag of popcorn, 12 cookies, many cups of soda, and one Twilight movie later, I am bringing the dirty dishes back to the kitchen when I hear a soft "meow meow meow" at my front door.
Shocked, I turn and give an "it can't be possible" look towards Betsy before I rush to the door. I crack the door open and in slinks in Muffin!
The excitement and the joyous cries of "Oh Muffin! You're back! Where have you been?" lasted for about one minute until we realized how utterly filthy this cat was.
Given that Muffin loves to climb onto beds, blankets, and people, and given that Muffin will cry all night if not given a warm place to sleep, we knew that we had to do something to clean this cat.
So where did you find Betsy and me yesterday night at midnight? Why, looking up "how to give a cat a bath" on Google, of course!
Luckily, Wendi was here to help document the whole thing.
Here are Betsy, me, and Muffin before the cat shower. I tried to waterproof myself as best as possible. Muffin was suspicious.
Betsy and I brought Muffin into the bathroom and locked the door. It was my job to hold Muffin down while Betsy washed him. The website said to use cat shampoo, but we didn't have that, so we used my Pantene Pro V. Muffin was unhappy.
The finished product: an extremely ugly, extremely unhappy, semi-clean cat.
Of course, I did not escape without some battle scars. Thank goodness Betsy had Neosporin and Band-aids.
Moral of the story? Don't own a cat.
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