I'm a dog person.
Along with most everything else on the planet (except for bunnies), I'm allergic to cats. I own a cat. You may remember PeeWee the Pirate, the blind one-eyed, one-toothed cat. Recently known as Funk Cat. She needed a bath.
I needed help. So I turned to the internet…where I was regaled with YouTube videos that had me laughing…and more nervous than tutored. There's even a "Monkey Washing Cat" video. It's really a chimpanzee and not a monkey, but it gave me hope that PeeWee and I could muddle through.
And I kept putting it off; imagining the need for an ambulance rescue, a double shot of coffee or fizzy beverage, earplugs (cats yowl like nobody's business when wet), last rites…you get the picture.
Neither the cat nor I were looking forward to this. So I put it off more and my allergies acted up more despite my brushing the cat, cleaning the house, etc. I needed to do this.
Finally, it came down to writing this blog. The whole idea of "Washing the cat" as a blog seemed funny and inspired follow through. It was almost as if you – real & imagined blog buds (I'm talking to you, Ira Glass.) – were holding me accountable and you never knew it.
So this morning, after a few short hours of sleep, I rolled over got a whiff of mewing cat morning breath in my 
foggy face and decided today is the day. And then I rolled back over and wished for sleep.
I had made this thing – this Washing the Cat – so big in my mind. I'd forgotten how sweet and funny and water loving this cat can be. In our old bungalow, she'd occasionally hop up on the shower ledge and take the tour – walking about and mewing for attention. This was great as I could "wash" her while she wandered. It's also a little odd and I was glad she gave up the practice when we moved.
Anyhoo…back to washing the cat. It was time. There was no time to brew the coffee, put 911 on speed dial, or pour either PeeWee or I a stiff drink.
Setting the scene: cat is lolling about waiting for breakfast while I nonchalantly whistle around the apartment getting ready. I don't know if the whistling was trying to appear chirpy…to the cat or if I was whistling in the dark, but whistling was part of the set up. Probably should not have been whistling Ted Nugent's, Cat Scratch Fever. (I think it gave her ideas.)
Bathtub filled with warm water? Check. Super fluffy towels on hand? Check. Shampoo, conditioner, large rinsing cup, cat treats? Check. Prayer prayed in haste as I swoop in, pick up the cat, cuddle her, take the collar off, leap into the tub, and start the rinse? Check.
To her credit, she only yowled a bit (thank goodness). She and I both hate loud piercing noises.
I remembered to mutter – I mean – talk to her while we did this waterbourne dance and take my time – slowly rinsing, bathing, catching, unhooking her from my person, and finishing this thing.
It wasn't fun for either of us. But it wasn't awful.
And I wondered midway through the bath, why did I fear this thing? It needed to be done for a multitude of reasons, she wasn't going to do it herself (on purpose), and the postponing of the thing was worse in anxiety and build up than the thing itself.
So much of non-cat-bathing life is like that.
We allow that twit, fear, to whisper into our fearless hearts and convince us that some thing is so much worse than our ability to do or endure. We're going to fail. Everyone will laugh. Maybe they will, but I'd rather epically fail while trying than snivel on the sidelines. At least that's what I tell myself. I've become a practiced sniveler.
Now, I may return home tonight to find the furniture shredded, window shears…sheared, and the remnants of a hairball festival all over the apartment. No worries. It's only stuff and Suzy has already agreed to let me borrow her carpet cleaner this weekend. Or I may come home to a slightly fluffier, less odiferous one-eyed Pirate allergen, who is happy to see me. I don't know. I can't worry about it.
I will, however, have a can of high-end smelly cat food in my briefcase on the way in.
* * *
The thought that just occurred to me: last night (early this morning) I finally finished up the "support letters" that have kept me awake and anxious since last March when I decided to join Adventures in Missions. These letters which invite you to join this walking beside folks, serving them, and shenaniganizing with people who have flung their lives into the realm of human suffering – ask for your help. And those last four words just made me sweat and tears to roll down the catnipped face. Asking for help is something I would rather Respond to than Extend.
These letters have been so hard to do and I've been fortunate…blessed to have been coached by Laura Jacobs & Kevin Williams (read: talked off the ledge) and encouraged by a new friend in an Oklahoma City IHop that "folks just might want to help." Oy.
So maybe Washing the Cat is an allegory for "doing the thing that hangs like a spectre a foot over your head or heart." Maybe Washing the Cat can be a code word for "trusting" God, family, friends, humanity…the tools I've been given (wherever they are hiding these days). Maybe Washing the Cat will be the code word for remembering that my Kingdom Dream is really God's heartbeat for a weary world and my place in it and not just a huge fairy tale.
It's the Allie-fied motivational muse that meets my wobbly heart rather than the mantras of "who moved my cheese" or "purple cow" or "build the fort today."
Would love to hear from you about your Washing the Cat moments. Maybe we could share scars, techniques, planning, guffaws, or a quiet moment of NOT washing the cat.
BLOG BONUS: The best How to Wash a Cat video. Get through the cheesy graphics…it's hilarious.
once after a terrible breakup, a friend told me how her daughter (a toddler) would rather sit in her poopy diaper all day long and play – than take the five minutes required to change it. And when she (my friend) tried to change it, all hell would break loose! But when they were done, mom was happy, the kid was much happier and company would actually come over. I think God is often that way with us, in my particular situation, there were parts of me that just needed to be cleaned up, and if I sat still for two seconds (like your cat) everyone was happier. love that analogy:)
I think…you just may be my favorite writer. Thank you for the word this morning.
thank you, Crock. that means a lot to me from a fellow funky Jcrew kid.
OK, this was funny and good. I’m expecting your fellow development team members to start chiming in more with their comments. Lots to interact with here. Washing cats and doing things that are unpleasant – we all struggle with it to some degree.