That's it. I'm calling the CPS (Cat Protective Services)!
I walked into the living room tonight to find the cat lying on one of the tv trays, a tray on which I had planned on setting my plate to eat dinner in the living room with Mr. Studley. He sat across the room as if oblivious to the fact that anything was out of order. It's not that he's a slob, far from it, but he has this major soft spot when it concerns Putty Tat. My reaction was less than pleasant, so he quickly piped up that he'd bathe her after dinner. Yeah, that's going to help me. The tv tray needs bathing!
True to his word, Mr.S. did give her a bath. The pitiful moans coming from the bathroom were a surefire indication that someone wasn't enjoying the process. Putty Tat wasn't any too happy, either. I wanted to get a better picture than the one above, one of her dripping and showing her displeasure. Unfortuantely, with her claws sunk into his arm, Mr.S. wouldn't accommodate a pose for me. Harumph!
A righteous man regards the life of his animal, but the tender mercies of the wicked are cruel.