After I read about poor Stumpy's ordeal, I called Myers and Tesh in.
"You're nine months old and you've never had a bath," I said.
"Why? Do we need one?" said Tesh, anxiously looking down at his fluffy white chest, of which he seems inordinately proud.
"Hey, I walk through the sprinklers every other morning," protested Myers, and this is true. He comes in all wet and leaves little Myers tracks all through the kitchen.
I looked at them. They don't look dirty. They don't smell.
Actually they're much cleaner than my house or my car.
Gaugie was probably just being neurotic, like X with her germfree kitchen. "Oh, all right. You can go."
They looked relieved as they walked out of the study.
"That was close," I heard Myers whisper.
"Yeah, I've heard those bath things can permanently destroy your kittiness," said Tesh. He looked down again worriedly at his chest. "I look ok to you, don't I?"
"Yeah, but maybe you ought to join me tomorrow for the sprinkler run." |
