Rod Stewart was crooning a classic version of "Our Love Is Here To Stay". I filled the bathtub, lit the candles and turned out the lights. Calgon, I thought, Take me away, and slipping into water up to my chin, closed my eyes and concentrated on breathing, nothing more.
It was serene.
It was soothing.
It was idyllic.
And it lasted for about 60 seconds.
I never heard the slow creak of the door opening, there was no warning meow - but I did sense a presence and when I opened my eyes, there on the edge of the bathtub was the young tuxedo cat.
Go 'way, I muttered, You'll fall in.
She paid no attention to me but reached out one paw and took a gentle swipe at the bubbles. This was followed by a delicate and quite ladylike sneeze, which was then followed by the telltale click-clack of small dog paws on the tile floor. I had an immediate premonition of disaster but by the time I reacted, the little daschund had already arrived and nudged the young cat - already in a precarious position - a paw's length further toward the water. There was a half second in which I might've saved her and myself if I hadn't been so surprised, but then it was gone. There was a violent splash and a blood chilling yowl - the water abruptly became a whirling hot tub of flailing cat and claws - the now terrified dog yelped and dove into a corner and with a magnificently impossible and impressive display of agility and panicky persistence, the cat made her escape in a flurry of spray, soap bubbles and blood. My blood, naturally - her hind feet had found the necessary purchase on my left calf.
The Rockies may crumble, Gibraltar may tumble .....Rod Stewart sang hoarsely.
It took me the better part of an hour to locate and towel dry the cat, calm the dog, and mop the bathroom floor.
Whatever great mind wrote about courage in the face of adversity has never spent a night in my house.
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