The Chemistry of Cats and Water

E.K. Bradshaw

The question hung ineptly in the still air, weighed down by the heavy awkwardness that silently threatened to overcome the large, sterile space of the treatment room of Bethesda East. From across the wet table, Dr. Rudy Serjei’s sturdy frame cut an imposing figure--his gaze, as always, was intent and focused, somewhat scrutinizing as he let his eyes drift to the young lady before him.

“You’ve never bathed a cat before?” His cool hazel stare was wrought deftly upon Jess, so utterly penetrating that the very depths of her soul quivered and her heart skipped more than one beat in a row. At the rate things were going, Jess was going to need a defibrillator if she didn’t avert her eyes. She glanced back down at the massive gray tabby on the wet table in front of her. The animal was monstrous, resembling a bobcat more than any domestic feline--and as far as he was concerned, he was lying on this metal sink against his will. A low growl rumbled in the big cat’s throat, which was enough to prompt tightening her hold on his scruff. Just in case, she told herself. One could never be too careful with twenty-one pounds of angry fur, muscle and claw.

“No, Dr. Serjei,” she answered at last, cutting her eyes briefly to the doctor standing over her. She did so just in time to see a pleasant smile cross the vet’s handsome features, and a slight twinkle in those disarming hazel eyes--not so much hazel than a pale, stormy green flecked with gold.

“Any idea what to do?”

“Not a clue.” At this, the tall, dark-haired veterinarian arched one eyebrow, regarding Jess with mild amusement.

“Well, then, it’s time you learned, isn‘t it?” The question was more rhetorical than not, and Jess simply offered a nod in reply. “Now, before you start a bath of any type, what do you do?”

“Um…” Knowing Dr. Serjei as well as she did, this was more than likely a trick question--one with an obvious answer. She tried her luck. “Turn on the water?” As she answered, she did so, removing one hand from the cat’s scruff--not the wisest idea. When she reached for the faucet, the cat sensed the sudden change in pressure on his neck and bolted, darting almost to the end of the table. Jess gasped and reached for the cat with her closest hand, as did Rudy. His hand clamped down over hers, and she emitted an inaudible gasp as his other hand slid beneath hers, grasping the cat’s scruff and yanking the cat up into the air.

“Easy, now.” For a moment, Jess wasn’t sure if Rudy was talking to her or to the cat. “Restraint,” he said, more to the cat. He placed the tabby back on the table. “The first step, Jessica, is restraining the animal.” He nodded at the cat. “If you would, hold him with both hands. Tightly, now.” She placed both her dainty hands back at the cat’s scruff, gripping firmly. “Never let a cat gain an upper hand on you,” he said matter-of-factly. “It never ends pretty.” With that, he reached into one of the pockets of his brown doctor’s smock and pulled out a blue nylon leash, looping it. “Lift him, if you please.”

Jess raised the cat, standing, onto his hind legs and watched as Rudy lassoed the cat with the leash and deftly fastened it around his big body in a makeshift harness. With the length that remained, he tethered the cat to the sink grate. The cat fought the leash, attempting to pull free, to no avail. “When bathing a cat,” Rudy continued, “you want to always make sure he’s secured. Always. Some dogs might oblige you and stay in the tub, but believe me. No cat truly wants to get wet if he can help it.” He nodded toward the counter. “The nail clippers, please.” Jess reached over and passed them to the doctor. “Once the cat’s secured, you can clip the nails. Unless he’s a total jackass, in which case, don’t bother. It’s not worth you getting your hand torn to shreds.”

“Dr. Serjei,” Jess raised a polite protest. “Dr. Hammond told me to always do nails.”

“Well, you can tell Margot that I said differently, and if she has an issue, she can take it up with me.” Rudy passed the subject over calmly as he began clipping the cat’s talons one by one, his fingers moving with deft swiftness, gained from years of experience. Jess watched in awe.

“You’re very good with your hands, Dr. Serjei,” she blurted. He raised an eyebrow at her. Suddenly catching the implications of her words, Jess flushed a shade of scarlet. If Rudy acknowledged it, he gave no indication, but Jess could swear she saw something dance across those dazzling eyes of his, like a flicker of lightning flashing and fading back into a stormy sky. Again, she turned her focus quickly back to the cat on the table. She watched his angry tail swishing to and fro, a little too intently--anything, she thought, to pry her thoughts away from those eyes. And, as an afterthought, away from those lips, the perfect smile, the ruggedly handsome features--

Jess started abruptly, seemingly losing her balance. The cat flinched and hissed. Rudy glanced up at Jess. “Are you all right?”

“Yes, sir,” answered Jess unconvincingly.

“Good, because I need you steady. This is the fun part.” A number of things raced through Jess’s mind, all of them nearly knocking her off balance again.

“Proceed.”

“We’re going to soak the cat down. Now, I’m going to hold him, and I want you to take the shower faucet and saturate the coat.”

“Okay.” Jess turned on the water. Dismayed, she realized her hands were trembling just slightly--perhaps, she thought, her nerves reacting at the thought of soaking and angering a twenty-pound, clawed monster. “Lukewarm?”

“That’s fine.” With a not-so-steady hand, Jess set to work saturating the cat’s thick grey fur. Another growl sounded from the big cat. When the tabby was dripping and quite unenthused, Jess glanced back to Dr. Serjei. “Good. That was the easy part.” He smirked and handed her a bottle of Universal Medicated shampoo. “This stuff is really thick, so only use enough. If you get the soap too thick, you spend more time rinsing.” Jess nodded. She popped the cap and squeezed some of the teal-green shampoo into her palm, smearing it across the cat’s back. As if struck by a sudden fancy, the large tabby abruptly decided he’d had enough. With an indignant hiss, he threw himself in Jess’s direction and started struggling. Jess let out a dismayed cry and attempted to shove the cat off of her, to no avail.

Within seconds, Rudy had rounded the table and moved swiftly behind Jess, shoving the cat back down to the metal grate, pinning him with one hand. And it was at that particular moment that Jess realized her shaky nerves weren’t because of the cat. He was close, she realized, very close--and it wasn’t at all unpleasant.

“You know what, Dr. Serjei?” ventured Jess shyly. “Why don’t we just do it this way? I feel better with you pinning him down from this angle.” Much better.

“Whatever works for you.” Indeed. From behind, Jess could sense him moving just slightly nearer, and a little chill darted down her spine. He was quite near her, but not quite touching, but still close enough for her to sense his presence, the slight warmth radiating from him, his pleasantly masculine scent, something between clean linen and sandalwood. She felt her breathing quicken involuntarily, and her pulse accelerate. To her dismay, a sudden shaky sigh escaped her.

“I apologize, doctor,” she said in a thin voice. “I’ve suddenly got a case of the nerves.”

“Here. Let me help you.” And then he stepped closer, blessedly closer, and he was there, closing the space between himself and Jess’s backside completely. Jess gasped audibly as his hands--big, strong and assured--covered her own dainty ones, giving them a gentle squeeze. His powerful arms rested along Jess’s, and she could practically feel the strength in those hardened muscles. She had seen Dr. Sergei many a time subdue an irate Rottweiler or uncooperative German Shepherd with those arms, maneuvering over exam tables like a professional dog wrangler--she knew well his capabilities. Everything about Rudy was terribly masculine, so overpowering, so male--and so close, she could hardly stand to restrain herself.

“Rudy…” His name left her lips on a soft sound that was half-sigh, half-moan, and he immediately pressed closer to her. She could feel his rugged frame against her, the broad shoulders and the rock-hard planes of his chest beneath his brown smock--oh God, she wondered what lay beneath that brown smock…

“Shh.” His voice was in her ear, low and as smooth as silk. “Don’t think. Just use your hands.” With another shaky sigh, Jess obeyed, smoothing the shampoo into the cat’s wet fur. “That’s good,” he purred against her ear. “Now use your fingers.” Jess shivered as she began massaging her fingers into the wet, sudsy fur, her hands still covered by Rudy’s. His fingers laced themselves with hers, and he squeezed her hands as he coaxed them deeper against the cat’s skin. “Right there…that’s wonderful. Very good.” He growled in her ear. “Harder, Jessica. Faster.”

“Yes, Rudy, yes…”

By now, the cat had long since stopped struggling, and now watched the two over his shoulder with wide, wary yellow eyes. Whether or not he understood what was exchanging between the veterinarian and his assistant couldn’t be told for sure, but one thing was certain--it was a good thing cats couldn’t talk. Though if he could, this one might ask to be washed again--for this would be the only shampoo the tabby had ever gotten that actually succeeded in making him feel dirtier than he had before.

As Jessica turned the water back on, rinsing the soap from the cat’s coat, the suds washed over both their hands, still entwined as if intimate. Rudy’s lips grazed the nape of Jess’s neck and she gasped as his kisses danced along her neck to her ear. Presently, the water over their hands ran clear, and the poor cat, however violated, was finally clean. “Excellent work, my dear,” murmured Rudy, kissing Jess’s ear. She shivered as he withdrew his hands from hers at last, trailing them along her arms as he stepped away. Calmly, he grabbed a towel from beside the sink, rubbed the excess water from the cat’s fur, removed the harness in one smooth motion and returned him to his cage.

“And that’s how you wash a cat,” declared Dr. Serjei matter-of-factly. With a simple cordial smile, the strictly professional veterinarian had returned, leaving behind little to no trace of the ravenous man who had overwhelmed Jess just seconds before. “Any questions?” He raised one dark eyebrow, smirking.

“Yes,” Jess replied, coyly playing with a strand of her fuchsia-tinted hair. She took a step toward the veterinarian, moving close, and placed both hands upon his chest, caressing down the front of his smock. Her gaze fastened on his a moment before she leaned up and kissed him, her lips lingering almost chastely upon his. When they parted, Jess was smiling playfully. “I was wondering, Dr. Serjei, when you were going to show me the x-ray table.”

His reply, simply a smirk, spoke more than words themselves could express.

From across the room, the soaking wet tabby curled himself into a ball and stuck his face into the far corner of the cage. He had already seen far too much for one day.

FIN