Blackjack’s Very Bad Day

Okay, today’s news is supposed to be about Phyllis Diller. But it’s not. Yesterday morning I was flipping through the auction catalog again and thinking about what to write when I heard a heart-stopping cat scream! I raced outside and saw Smokey streaking toward the house and then over the wall from the neighbors, Blackjack’s head appeared. He seemed to be struggling, but managed to pull himself over the wall and make a run for the house. He looked very odd with his fur matted down, and as he ran, he left a trail of brown stuff behind him. I thought that he had literally had the cr*p scared out of him.

When he got in the house, the poor little guy was so frightened he streaked through the kitchen, the dining room, into the living room, behind the furniture and finally down the hall to the bedroom where he jumped across the bed into the corner where he hunkered down under the bed.

It wasn’t cat cr*p — it was motor oil. Dirty motor oil. He was covered from the shoulders down. My house now had a swath of motor oil on the floor, in the rugs, on the furniture and all over my bed.

Of course, my first priority was to rescue BJ. He was terrified — as who wouldn’t be? — now crouched behind the bed in the corner soaking the rug, the dust ruffle and the comforter. I finally managed to get a grip on the only part of him that wasn’t slick — his neck and haul him out. Thank heaven he hadn’t gone in head-first or I’m sure he’d be dead.

(I will cut to the chase here and tell you that he’s okay. I’ve had to throw out everything that he came in contact with. The bathroom rugs, toilet seat cover, the towels I had grabbed out of the linen closet and the clothes I was wearing.)

But back to Blackjack. Once I had him corralled in the bathroom, I frantically called friends, and Susie came over. She and I managed to scrub him down three times with Dawn, but  realized we were making no discernible progress. “Couldn’t be a short haired cat,” she muttered at one point. Gentle as we were, his fur was coming out by the handful. Susie called a place she knew that laundered pets: K9s and Kitties. They said, “bring him in.”

Three hours and a mere $65 later, he was ready to come home. They’d used a half bottle of degreaser and nearly a full bottle of Dawn Ultra to get him clean. I must say he looks great and being the sweet, but not too bright, fellow that he is, he seems none-the-worse for wear although he did snuggle pretty close last night. I thought he’d never want to leave the house again, but he was anxious to go out this morning as if nothing had happened.

I’ve washed my nearly new and wonderful gazillion thread sheets as well as the dust ruffle and the comforter with Oxyclean, Tide with Stain Remover, and bleach. The stains will never come out. I’m going to get all new bathroom accessories — do I have to get all new bed coverings, too?

As for the neighbors — I went over and told them what happened and they need to get rid of that oil. The woman was unconcerned, simply saying “we’re getting rid of it today.” We’ll see about that, because in the next five minutes I’m calling the City of Las Vegas and making a hazardous materials report. Then I’ll go back to scrubbing the floors.