Aaaaahahahaha--*gaaakk* *ptooey* *ptooey*

So.

I enlisted the assistance of the Captain to clip Genrou today. The fuzzbucket has been collecting mats with a devotion which, if applied to my bank account, would make me a multi-millionaire. Or at least the owner of a thriving rug company. It had just gotten disgusting, and it can't have been comfortable for him. Why can't you be more like your sister, Genrou? MESA would never get into this sort of a mess....

The cat endured this indignity with a few piteous yowls, and the vindictive shedding of at least a quarter of said fur. Occasionally he'd forget how much he was supposed to dislike the attention, though, and slip up, letting that lazy-eyed expression of uniquely feline bliss spread across his face. (Just remember, kids, 'no' means 'yes'!) All the while, Nexus hovered about with the express intention of rubbing it in:

Genrou: (held down and pitiful) "I hate you aaaaalll -- oo, wait, that felt sort of good. If you scratch me under the chin some more, I'll forgive you. ...And you know, the tummy-rubbing isn't so bad, and the -- HEY I ALMOST FORGOT, I HATE YOU. OH, THE HATE."

Nexus: (alternately licking Genrou's head and trying to squeeze her fat kitty butt between the brush and the long-haired cat that actually needs it) "Hey, whatcha doing? Whatcha doing? Oo, oo, do ME next! I'd like th--hey, you missed a spot, here. Let me get that for you." *slurp* *slurp*

Using clippers, scissors, and a brush, we managed to get him mostly un-matted in about an hour's time. He's an incredibly docile cat. I think he may actually be Felis canis, the rare and inscrutable dog-cat, who likes sleeping with all four feet in the air and will tamely accept being manhandled. Not once did it occur to him to hiss, spit, or attempt to nail us with his non-existent front claws. (Because once upon a time, alliath said, "I'll pay to declaw your cat, or you can pay to reupholster my couch." And I was in the midst of defending my cat when I heard a *scrrrrrrrrrrip* *scrrrrrip* *scrrrrrrip* from behind me and turned to see him looking at us both innocently, his claws embedded in her upholstry. And that was that. Stupidity is its own reward, silly Gen-chan.) The most challenging part of it all, really, was avoiding sneezing from all the fur in the air.

However, we discovered something else: Genrou was dirty. Not surprising, really, given that he never really learned to groom himself. (Why can't you be more like your sister? MESA keeps herself spotlessly clean!) He was so dirty that we couldn't even get a brush through his un-matted fur. So Mom and I came to that most dreaded of conclusions:

We would give the cat a bath.

This momentous event occurred in the laundry room sink in my bathroom. Two singularly astounding things happened during this event:

1) The minute Genrou hit the water, he remembered that, somewhere in the ancient origins of his genetic material, there had been a predator. My cat, the fuzzbucket sweetheart whose most potent weapon thus far had been pathetic looks and mews, tried to bite me.

2) Upstairs, Nexus finally realized she wanted no part of the sort of attention Genrou was getting. She hid, and remained in hiding long after we returned with a sodden, defeated orange feline who still smells vaguely of cucumber melon shampoo.

There is nothing in the world more pitiful than a wet cat.

Most cats, when released, would immediately retreat to the highest, least accessible point in the room and begin frantically licking themselves dry. My cat? Goes for the food dish. I have proof that he is completely unsanitary, too, because half an hour later -- with his fur drying out in all possible directions and a few that haven't been invented yet -- he had still not groomed himself. At. All. Ugh. (I'd worry for his health, but he's clearly not losing weight.)

The upshot of all this is that Genrou is, if not precisely clean, then at least less dirty than before. He's also about half the cat he was before - literally.

I also discovered something I never knew: My cat has tabby stripes! Holy crap. Where did those come from?

And another thing!

I got an e-mail from the chair of my department at Southwest today. Snippet:

"How are your students doing? One wrote me and said she was failing. If her AP skills are no better than her ability to write, I can see why. She guessed only 5 students were passing the course so far. I seriously doubt that."

I have decided: I like my boss.