I stared at his intense seaweed green eyes. He was purring excitedly even though he was obviously pissed. He just loved our girl so much and was so happy to be on her lap, for the moment he seemed to forget he was soaking wet and it was her fault.

I on the other hand, would not stand for such a thing. I saw him sitting patiently while she wet him down. No real fights - I would have put up a fight - I would have clawed her eyes out before she could get me wet ... no matter how much I loved her, and how well she fed me.

But not Socrates. He purred instead, vibrating the entire room. I never understood cats like him. They don't understand the true freedom it is to be a cat. The freedom to kick ugly sweaters off onto the stovetop; to claw at intrusive, dirty hands of a child; the warding off of any unwanted human interaction. That is what separates us cats from dogs.

I watched him, wanting to smirk at his stupidity, but realizing I had nothing to laugh at, I glared instead. He was enjoying himself too much. What a waste of time, I hissed, walking gracefully away, to clean myself as any decent feline would - by tongue.

I walked past the human bathroom, where remnants of the horrible deed still lingered. The smell of lavender shampoo and wet cat filled the air. I cantered past the grotesque scene on my way to my bed.

It was time for a nap. The bed was unmade, because, as usual my girl hadn't gotten around to making it for me yet. I had to tenderize the comforter to get it fluffed just right, before finally settling down in relaxation.

Not ten human-minutes had passed, or so I presume, when I was rudely awakened by human paws descending upon me. I was plucked from my slumber and pulled into the smelly depths of Hell. Lavender was prominent in the air.

Yet I found myself intrigued to let my girl carry me to the big torture tub. I felt inclined to lay upon her comfy lap as she let the water run. It had a peaceful hum etching into my brain. A beat I could almost tap to, if no one was watching. But oh how that lavender stunk. I noticed Socrates staring at me with those eyes. Those eyes too soft-green to be of any normal cat.

Then, she began petting me. My human was petting with her wet hands, she was combing my back, capturing tiny insects upon my back. That was ok, those things bothered me anyway. I would have stayed the whole time too, except she had to get out that damn lavender bottle.

I am much smarter than my girl. She couldn't find me again 'til dinnertime.