Facts About Burning Kittens

So as part of our evolving new-parent-of-kitten philosophy, we've gradually gotten more permissive about where we let Cupcake go. Here's a summary of lessons learned so far. I will pretend that Cupcake is representative of all cats, so that I sound like an expert.

1. Cats like running water if you let a small rivulet stream from the faucet. They become mesmerized by the soft water sounds, the soothing movement, the texture. They will sit with tilted head on the rim of the sink, tentatively extend a paw. Scoop some into their mouths. Stretch our their necks, twist their heads upside down, and slurp. It makes an excellent distraction while, for example, I try to move my laptop somewhere that she can't sit on it and type messages like "ssssttttttttttttt444435gedggg" into the search engine.

2. Cats also find small flickering candles to be hypnotic. As an owner seeking any excuse short of a kitty straitjacket to spare the skin of my forearms and hands from her late-night wildcat mode, it was a joyous surprise to see her quietly gaze at a 4-inch candle for nearly a half hour one night.

3. Cats will join you in the shower, to their own regret. Even though in her case it amounts to just walking the side of the tub, sheltered by the curtain, and peeking around the corner. Occasionally, this results in her slipping off the ledge and into the tub. She does not like being covered with water, so she scrambles out like a cartoon character trying to run on ice in her escape.

4. Fire and water have a double-calming-effect. Right? Before my shower, Dena had a candle burning on the sink. I nudged the sink faucet on. Cuppie sat there, her head slowly flicking back and forth between these two basic elements. Satisfied that all was secure, I stepped into the shower.

5. Burning cat hair smells like a dentist's drill. I whipped my head from behind the curtain. Cuppie was sitting there, still staring at the water. Not, as I'd feared, lying in a ball of flame, which was relatively good news. For a moment I figured that something else must be on fire. Picture me running half-naked and soaking wet into Dena's office asking "Honey, do you smell something burning?"

6. Cats hate haircuts. Alas, she was indeed singed, and the smell was indeed nauseating. So it was time for a series of snips to remove the noxious hairs. As it turns out, this ranks slightly above "put a collar on me" and below "give me a rabies shot" on the Hiss-o-Meter.

Moral of the story: A watched kitten never burns; an unwatched kitten does; wet cats are happier than burned ones; do not vote for me as Owner of the Year; "kitten barber" is a lousy profession.