Ms. Huffy

Shady Dog Pet ID: 7105
My hang out: Salt Lake City, UT

My mug shots …

Here’s my story …

There’s only one four letter word that bothers me. The word is so utterly foul, disgusting and hateful that I find very hard to think about, let alone say it. OK, it’s a, … shhh, bath! Ahhhhhhh! Scary, right?  I have no idea why the humans (my food providers) take them all the time.

I should have known. This morning, I sensed something terrible was going to happen. The Food Providers know not to say the terror word or even use a replacement word like “scrub” or “wash”. If they do, I immediately hide in my secret spot which (don’t tell) is inside the mattress of youngest human and I stay there for at least 12 hours. They were all bubbly and kind, gave me some cat nip, “Good Ms. Huffy”. The oldest male Food Provider even picked me up then said “Okay. I got her.” Got her for what? My surprise birthday party? Then I heard the sound of running water. Instant panic! Hair rises. Claws surge. Wait they declawed me. Dang! Wiggle. Wiggle. No use! Oh boy, I’m going to throw up. Will my cat vomit make him drop me?

As we move closer to the watery nightmare, the oldest female Food Provider waits with a big ol’ fake smile and a sprayer in one hand like it’s a torture device. I hate her so much. They tricked me. Don’t they know cats lick themselves to clean up? Did they miss that day in cat school? Do they get the Nature channel?

I want to pass out. I could have a heart attack. But there’s no time for that. The water is on me. It’s wet! It’s two degrees too hot! I hate hot water. I’m going to burn up. I’m melting like a chocolate candy bar on a hot day. And the shampoo smells like cherries. Cats don’t like cherries. Why can’t they make the shampoo that smells like bird feathers or a dead mouse? I’m dying and I didn’t even write my memoir yet!

The water stops. It’s over. They wrap a towel around me. I’m seething. I’m so, oh so mad right now.

Story by (c) 2021. All Rights Reserved.

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