Birds-eye view of Rojo

Rojo is, or seems to be, about twice the size of when we got him, but even so he is still not very big and still a kitten.  Let’s put it this way, he is still small enough that to fit in the bread bin – as I found out tonight.  Which all begs the question of how one small animal can produce so much noxious gas.

The fact is that Rojo is a flatulent cat and a specialist in the ‘silent-but-deadly’ mode of delivery.  To make matters worse, one of his favourite places to relax is on the back of my desk chair; it is a high-backed chair, which puts him level with my head…

Tonight was the worst though.  He came in through the cat flap, trotted straight downstairs and jumped up onto me.  I thought he smelled a bit bad and then he jumped down, leaving me to contemplate the nice brown stains on my white shirt and wonder just what he had trodden in.  Even at that late hour, we decided that it was time to actually try out that kitten and puppy shampoo…

It was brilliant.  Rojo just sat in the kitchen sink while the tap was running, fascinated by the water.  Jayne poured jugs of it over him and he loved it.  He didn’t even mind having a jug poured over his head.  There is something not right about that cat – the last time we tried to wash Scar he tore the house down.  That was at least five years ago and we have not dared to try it since, but Rojo enjoys water.  He didn’t enjoy the shampoo quite as much but still put up with it.

There is something immensely funny about a soaked cat.  You don’t realise just how thin their tails are until they are drenched.  Of course I had to get my camera, and of course the batteries were too dead to even store one picture.  Those batteries have not been used since I charged them and I am miffed about it.  The camera just destroys batteries.