The Saddest Song in the World - The End!
Read Part 1 and Part 2 and Part 3
I turned toward the tub and evaluated the situation. Fat Bastard stood at the front of the fixture, his nose pressed into the water spout. He looked harmless, even goofy, with irregular drops of water running down his whiskers. His fur was whiter than the fiberglass - whiter than anything I'd ever seen, almost translucent, like the hide of a Polar Bear. Gail rustled behind me, and I heard a cabinet open and close.
"Just scoop him up, Madame Avon. We need the element of surprise."
"Ok." I set the shampoo bottle on the marble floor and slid toward the tub.
"Hey, kitty, kitty, kitty. What a good kitty, kitty, kitty. Come to Birdie, kitty." I bent at the waist and grabbed Fat Bastard. I expected him to growl and swat, but he twisted his body in supine submission.
"Awwww, he's a sweetie! He's no bastard!" I stepped away from the tub and raised my eyebrows in surprise at the strange contraption in Gail's hands.
"Five minutes does not a relationship make, my dear Avon Lady."
Gail stuck out her tongue and licked the end of a huge suction cup attached to a stick. She tilted toward the wall and pressed the apparatus into the decorative black tile with a grunt. It hung low over the bath. A metal hook stuck out from the bottom of the dowel. A few sections of simple chain swung from it. It looked some kind of railroad crane - the kind that raises and lowers boxcars onto the track.
"Now hand me le chat." Gail still held the black mesh, and as I hoisted Fat Bastard away from my body, she took care to hide it behind her back. Fat Bastard didn't notice. He stretched one paw and shifted his weight, seemingly happy to be perched in the crook of his owner's arm.
What happened next I can't even describe. It happened so fast! Gail whipped the mesh from behind her back and encapsulated Fat Bastard as stealthy and quick as a momma spider. Her arms rotated and pushed and patted the cat into a hairy cocoon with four windmill legs angry and wild. I heard the sound of a metallic zipper and one petulant meow. She attached the netting to the hanging structure and stepped back to admire her work. Fat Bastard's legs swung beneath the netting. He looked like a fuzzy white jelly bean with a jaunty black zigzag design. Well, a jelly bean with legs, anyway. His feet barely reached the tub floor, and they made running motions, as if he was on some kind of S and M treadmill.
"Neat little invention, isn't it? I designed it myself. I'd make a million dollars if I sold them on eBay." Gail turned the cold water knob first, then the hot. She plugged the tub, and I watched Fat Bastard squirm and kick as the water rose to meet his belly.
"Wow. I never saw anything like it! What a cool idea. I can't believe he didn't scratch you. He doesn't look very happy." That was an understatement. Fat Bastard hissed and moaned and looked straight at me with evil slitted eyes.
I handed Gail the Avon Naturals Pink Grapefruit & Rose Shampoo. She squeezed a generous dollop in one palm and rubbed her hands together. Her bandana started inching up her forehead, exposing her bald head. I leaned over, pushed it back down as she rubbed Fat Bastard's back and head with the suds.
"Thank you, Avon Birdie. I shaved it off. I didn't want to watch it falling out in hunks." Gail answered the question I was too afraid to ask. "It's breast cancer. My aunt died at thirty. My sister died at thirty-two. I'm forty-six so I guess I am already on borrowed time."
Gail continued washing her cat, ignoring his sputter and swat. She took a plastic tumbler and rinsed Fat Bastard with care. "Look, Avon Lady. I'm going to tell you something. I'm dying. I won't be here long enough to see the finals from the cat food advertising campaign I just finished. But you are young, still, and apparently healthy. Listen to me, Birdie."
I stopped staring at Fat Bastard. Gail stood, let the cat pitch and yaw as she stuck both hands on slim hips and looked me straight in the eyes.
"Avon Lady who is not Avon, name of Birdie, cat wash assistant and funny girl in strange Celtic clothes, I have some important advice for you."
Fat Bastard chose that moment to yeowl holy hell. His face pressed against the mesh, one tooth snagged in the black material. I had no idea what Gail was about to say. Love is the answer? Always be kind? Watch your back? Get regular mammograms?
Gail laughed at her cat, remained arms akimbo, and let her gift to the world at large and kilt-covered Avon Ladies in general fly:
"You'll always be lucky if you know how to make friends with strange cats."
afterwords:
Gail found out I blogged the next day by googling one of Avon's products to find online reviews. She and I became fast friends, but it was such a short and sweet time. She died just two months after that first meeting. Her brother told me that all of her cats were lovingly adopted by a rancher in East San Diego County. I wish her - and all her feline friends - peace.
4:01:14 PM 
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