>The nice Mistah is making you play with your babies away from the bath.
>That’s not necessarily a bad thing. Wa-wa’s are bad for babies, after all, and the babies need time to learn that even if you smell different now, you are still their Mumma.
>He said it was because Clog didn’t like baths, but that’s silly, everyone likes being pretty, and baths make you pretty.
>Except Clog. He might be standing there and letting the Mistah clean him, but he’s making loud, unhappy ‘Ouhwwwwl’ noises and keeps scrabbling for the rim of the bath whenever the Mistah takes his hand off the Kitteh-Fwiend, but Clog is so sudsy that he can’t get a grip.
>Poor Kitteh-Fwiend.
>The nice Mistah was also saying things about ‘fleas’ and ‘useless damn cat’.
>You scolded the Mistah for that, because Clog saved you from the Meanie Herd after they followed you all the way back here, and stopped them from taking you back to be the ‘Special Huggies Mawe’ again.
>The Mistah looked at you, looked at Clog, looked at you again and muttered something under his breath, then proceeded to start to rinse Clog’s fluff out
>And then he puts Clog down on the tiles, and you stare at your saviour, his fluff all hanging down wet, no longer so magnificently fluffy…
>Must not laugh, must not laugh, must not…
>Be Clog, vigorously protesting this inhumane treatment of your person as the Management gives you a warm, soapy bath.
>Ouhwwwwwwl! “I WILL SMOTHER YOU IN YOUR SLEEP WITH MY ASS!”
>“I know Clog, I know, the bath won’t take too much longer.”
>OUHHHHWWWWWWLLLLLL! “I WILL END YOU AND ALL YOU LOVE!”
>“Oh, who’s a silly kitty?”
>OUHHHHHHWWWWWLLLLLLLLL! “ALL OF MY HAAAAAAATE!”
>“Now come on, hold still and let me wash your belly…”
>OUHHWWWWWWLLLLLLLLLL!
“FOR FUCK’S SAKE, WILL YOU LEARN TO SPEAK CAT ALREADY?”
>And then you’re picked up out of the bath, dropped onto the bath-mat… and the green Fluffy-thing looks at you, puts both hooves to her muzzle and bursts into muffled laughter as your long, luxurious fur hangs down from your body, trailing along the equally-wet bathmat, before the Management, in a final, spiteful move, grabs a towel and begins to ruffle your entire body in an attempt to dry you off.
>Shit is above your pay-grade…
>Finally, both you and the Fluffy-Thing are deemed clean enough to be let loose in the house, the Management opens the door… and there’s your mother, glaring at you all.
>For a moment, she opens her mouth to either bare her fangs or start bitching you out again, and then you see her eyes go wide and her ears flatten against her skull as she smells the shampoo and the steam, sees your damp fluff.
>“Huh, I guess you could do with a bath too. Fluffy, go and wait in the lounge-room, Craybait needs a bath too.” The Management rumbles, then lunges forwards and grabs Craybait by the scruff of her neck, her face screaming “NO!” even as her body goes limp by reflex.
>Time to get while the getting is good…
>Be Mint.
>The Not-Friend-Kitteh liked baths even less than the Kitteh-Friend does.
>And she likes you and your babies even less.
>You crouch down low over your babies so they feel safe, and hope they didn’t hear the bad words the Mistah was saying when he was giving the Not-Friend-Kitteh her bath.
>Your Mummy won’t like them if they say bad words, and you want to make sure they grow up to be good Fluffies.
>The Kitteh-Friend, Clog, is still grumpy as well, sitting on the couch above you, staring at the television with his tail flicking back and forth.
>You wish he’d come down, so you could give him more huggies, and help him be happy again, but…
>You’re so close to getting home. You have a Kitteh-Fwiend, a nice Mistah Human who gave you a bath so you’d smell pretty again, is willing to let you stay the night in his warm, safe house, and even gave you nummies, and tomorrow he can put you over the fence, and you’ll finally … finally …
>Without you realising it, tears have started to fall from your eyes, wetting your cheeks, and you sob, half in fear that the Ferals really were right, and she won’t love you anymore, and half in relief, that you’re almost home, that you’re safe for the first time in months…
>And when the Kitteh-Fwiend jumps down and starts to groom you, silent as your own shadow, you lean against him and shake with your sobs, as your babies underneath you peep in confusion and distress.
>You’re safe…
>Be the Home-Owner.
>Once again, you have cheated fate, and given your cats a bath without losing a finger, or too much blood.
>Clog’s miffed, but being the giant softie of a cat he is, is snuggling you as you give him a tin of tuna-flavoured cat-food as a reward for his efforts today.
>Yeah, so he’s a terrible cat. Still, a bit of searching online gives you a bit of insight into this ‘Mint’s’ life…
>Jesus fucking Christ, if that lump on the back of her head really is a tracking chip, and not just an old injury, then she was stolen from her mother’s backyard and turned into a sex-slave by the Ferals.
>Craybait, your ‘original’ cat, sulks on the other side of the room as you keep the Fluffy Mare and her Foals close to you.
>You’d hoped she’d take to them just like Clog would, but Craybait just walked up and swatted the Mare across the face, hard, and then started trying to drag the Foals out from under the cowering, shivering Fluffy.
>Yeah, no. One smack on the arse and Craybait ran away to the other side of the room, but now it looks like you’ve got to keep the Mare under guard all night.
>“Mistah, is Kitteh gon’ huwt Mint 'gain?” Mint asks softly as she spots Craybait glaring at her from behind the television, which is blaring the evening news. “Mint nu know wha’ she did wong. Wha’ Mint du dat make Kitteh su ang’wy wit’ Mint?”
>“Ah, don’t mind Craybait, she’s just being a cat. Clog’s a big softie, and doesn’t like to hunt. Isn’t that right, you useless cat?” You reply, patting the Fluffy and wincing as you see Craybait’s hair stand on end. Jesus, jealousy and hunting instincts…
>Clog just gives you a dirty look, not stopping his scoffing of the tuna-flavoured dish, wolfing it down like it’s mana from heaven.
>Craybait’s too busy glaring holes into the Fluffy to realise that Clog’s eating the ‘prized’ meal, and Mint seems to be content with some white bread, shredded cheese and an apple.
>“Bestest nummies Mint haf since was taken fwom Mummy.”
>Hnnnnngh…
>“Mint make wotsa miwk-nummies fo’ baybehs now!”
>… Eh?
>“Wait, Mint. Those are the Foals of the Ferals, right? Why do you want to keep them?” You ask the Mare, a little confused. Doesn’t she get they’re the product of a rape? Or did she enjoy the constant sex?
>“Mint wan’ make dem Guud Fwuffies, wike Mint’s Mummy make Mint a Guud Fwuffy. Nu wan’ dem be meanie-huwties-smewwies-nasty Fwuffies wike de Fewaws! Wan’ dem tu be guud, nu want dem tu be Fewawse!”
>Oh-kay, there’s obviously no love lost there, judging by Mint’s angry tone, and the tears that begin to bead at the corners of her eyes.
>So you’ll keep her in your room tonight, in the old cat carry-cage to keep her safe, and tomorrow morning, you’ll drop her off to Melinda and wash your hands of all of this mess.
>Be the Home-Owner again.
>Craybait is tucked under your arm after a round of vigorous playing and petting to hopefully convince the cat she’s not being replaced, as you consider locking her in the laundry overnight to prevent her murdering the Fluffy refugee, when you hear the Fluffy shrieking about something
>Oh what now?
>You drop Craybait off in the laundry and shut the door fast, hearing the ‘thud’ from the other side as the scrappy little ex-feral cat slams into the door from the other side.
>Man, she really has it out for the Fluffy. When you brought home other stray animals, she really didn’t care so long as they stayed away from her and her food, but she’s positively murderous towards the Mare.
>Maybe she ran afoul of a Fluffy on the streets, before you found her and took her in?
>Rushing into the room, you look around… Clog’s still sitting by the Fluffy’s side, but she’s put her back to the TV, blocking her foal’s from seeing the news.
>There’s a mob of Feral Fluffies in a garbage dump, tearing into each other with savage abandon as they fight over a pile of green-waste.
>Huh, poor little thing must have thought the Ferals on the TV could also see her and she’s trying to hide her babies.
>Damn, she is gonna be a handful for Melinda. Still, at least she’s safe now.
