Poor kitty

Rocky was smelling kind of, well, grungy this weekend.  I remembered how Pacey and Chewie didn't seem to learn to lick themselves very well until they were a little older, so we decided to take matters into our own hands.  It wasn't hard keeping a kitten of less than two pounds under control in the tub, but we had a rough time holding Peter back from vaulting over the edge of the tub to join in the bath.

Rocky, who usually meows with all his might for all sorts of other reasons, was totally silent during his great ordeal.  His escape attempts were at a minimum, probably due to the steely grip I kept on him.  He looked pretty pitiful in the bathtub, but when he got out he REALLY looked like a drowned rat.  Poor little dude.

He smells MUCH better now.  I'm wondering whether he will avoid the bathroom like the plague now.  Then again, he still hasn't figured out that he should avoid Peter (who has a penchant for attempting to pick Rocky in all sorts of inappropriate ways).