By the time I got home - windows still open - Rob was close behind me, so I left the cat in the kennel cab. There was no way in her current state that I wanted her running through the house, especially as her favourite hiding spot was under our bed.
After Rob had shown not one iota of sympathy at my aforementioned adventures, he went down to the laundry room to clean off the cat. It didn't occur to me that he may need help, but quite honestly too bad if he did, I was sorely ticked about what I'd had to endure.
It was a while later that I ventured downstairs and I thought I heard a faint cry for help from behind the closed door of the laundry room. I hollered back "Do you need help ?" No answer, all I could hear was running water and a howling cat. A couple of minutes later I heard it again "Help!" I yelled back, "I'm here what do you want?" Still no answer. At this point most people would have probably got up, wandered over, opened the door and checked for themselves. I'm not most people, and I stayed put. The next cry was louder "WILL SOMEONE GET THEIR ASS IN HERE AND HELP ME". That was my cue to call up to my son. "Grady! Dad is calling you. He needs your help". Well why not ? I know Rob didn't specifically ask for Grady, but close enough. To give Grady his due, he didn't hesitate, and went straight in to assist his father.
It would appear that Rob is standing over the laundry room sink struggling with a drenched cat. Grady stood there aghast as Rob yelled at him to get some shampoo. He obviously hadn't thought this through, if he had, he would have taken the shampoo in with him. Typical. Grady scuttles out of the laundry room, cursing "It's like frickin' Twister in there" he growled, "Poo and puddles all over the floor, you can't move without stepping in something" and proceeds to give me a demonstration, which is unfortunate, because his father is still yelling for the shampoo.
It is a good job Grady hung around to aid Rob because I would not have been much help. It is extremely difficult to offer any useful assistance when one is consumed by gales of laughter. By this time Lindsay and Sidney had joined me, curious in spite of themselves, to see what the commotion was about. I tried to explain, but all I could do was laugh. From what I could hear, (no way was I going in the laundry room) Rob had shampooed and rinsed the cat and now needed to dry it off. You have to appreciate this is a voluptuous cat, so when Rob is yelling at his son to grab him a towel, and Grady optimistically offers up something barely bigger than a facecloth, Rob explodes "Are you kidding me Grady ? Have you seen the size of this fucking cat ?". That was it, I lost it, totally incoherent. The girls weren't much of an improvement. If there is one thing we can do well, it is to laugh at another's misfortune. The worse off they are, the better, and if the object of that laughter is their poor long suffering father, then that is when we laugh the loudest.
I'm happy to report that the cat is doing much better, and give it another day or two, my husband may actually start talking to me again.
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