Oliver loves to bathe. He spends hours every day licking himself into a soggy ball of fluff. At least one of those baths, each day, is in my arms. So I didn’t think anything of it this morning when our post-breakfast snuggle turned into a bath.
Confined by my arms, Olive only had a few options for his bath. He spent thirty full minutes washing his armpit. Well…his armpit and my wrist. Each lick got a little bit of flesh.
My wrist is very clean.
Three layers of skin lighter kind of clean.
I have a red patch the size of a quarter where the skin and hair has been sanded off by a kitten tongue. Oliver’s armpit, in case you were concerned, is fine.
It’s Thunder Thursday! Courtesy of my friend Nikki, pictures of other kittehs participating in the Oli-mpics.
There’s a definite grooming hierarchy in my house. Thunder bathes Holly but never licks me. Holly licks my fingers but never grooms Thunder. I don’t lick either cat.
Ha! I don’t lick the boys, or The Boy, either. Kitten Thunder bathes each other, they bathe themselves, and they lick the humans once in a while. Oliver is very concerned about The Boy’s cooties and has to take a full bath every time The Boy touches him. He once tried to bathe The Boy to cut the cooties off at the pass…I don’t think it’s a coincidence that he tossed his tuna that night – he obviously ingested some cooties.