I gave my cat a bath last night...and he is not happy. I recently came home to a floor completely covered in yarn, shreds of newspaper, and...oh dear god the loaf of bread has been mutilated. I should have known that Theo, (my cat...short for Theodore) after bitting the absolute shit out of my cousin, (who knew that assisting would land him an immediate spot on Theo's hit list) would try to do everything in his power to make the whole apartment suffer the dire consequences for giving him a bath in which he sees as inhumane torture. My socks are all over the hallway, stuff on my nightstand has been knocked over, books and games have been knocked off the shelf, and now that I think about it I can not find Theo anywhere...but I know he is here...lurking in the shadows or perhaps hiding in my closet just waiting...I regret nothing.