This morning found Linus tailgating us as we rose and moved around the house. If either of us stopped for TWO SECONDS, he extended a paw to remind us of his presence: “Hi. Over here. Right here. Ready to make use of your hand. Scratchy, scratchy, let’s go.” As Stevel made his escape down the stairs, Linus followed in his slinky-of-fat-careening-down-the-steps fashion and stuck his head through the bars between the up-stairs and the down-stairs, where Stevel stood at the top. He tried first one paw and then another, reaching to extend as far as he could to wack Stevel on the hip: “I see you’re leaving. Don’t leave without scratching me vigorously first. Don’t forget. Hey. HEY!” Finally, he drove Stevel away. Who can take this. It’s TOO MUCH.

Left alone with Linus after that, and having gotten about three minutes of sleep all night due to this week apparently being daylight-savings/night-dark-attacking time for this cat, I promptly plunked him in the bathtub and scrubbed him with shampoo and a scrub-brush. “There,” I said, “You’re getting the scratch-down of your life. You should be ecstatic. Why are you instead screaming for one of the neighbors to rescue you from drowning?”

Incidentally, he’s leaving me alone now. No cat wants to be friends with the crazy bath lady. At least not until his walnut-sized brain forgets all about it in ten minutes or so.