Kiss My Knits!

We keep our laundry detergent on the back of the washer, which is in our kitchen. The other day, while the machine was in its spin cycle, the detergent bottle vibrated off of the back of the washer and hit the floor. My husband and I were both in other rooms and didn’t think much of it. It wasn’t the first time that had happened. Unbeknownst to us, the bottle had landed directly on its lid. The bottle was full. A lagoon of detergent was slowly spreading across the kitchen floor.

I got up to get the finished laundry out of the machine and said, “Honey, look at this.” He arrived just in time to see the cat saunter past me into the kitchen, directly toward the detergent slick. When I noticed, I reached down to grab her, which freaked her out and caused her to speed up. She hit the detergent, couldn’t get her footing, spun out, and panicked. Finally, with her claws scrabbling on the linoleum, she ran through to the dining room and living room, passing out of sight as quickly as she could with soapy paws.

It was going to be a heck of a mess to clean up, but it was so freakin’ hilarious my husband and I immediately burst into helpless laughter. Once we recovered, my husband realized that we’d better find her before she started to lick herself clean. We followed the little detergent prints she left all through the house to find her huddled in the bottom of our closet.

We trapped her in a towel and ran a shallow bath. While I bathed her paws and bottom half (the only parts that had been coated) he sopped up the detergent with many, many towels. One quarter of our kitchen floor was noticeably cleaner than all the rest.

The poor cat, drooling from the shock and indignity of it all, was finally set free. The detergent was moved to a more secure location. And we all lived happily ever after. At least, once the cat dried off.

The end.