All Buttered Up

I’ll bet that you watched the superbowl yesterday, didn’t you? I planned to watch, or at least keep one eye on the game while I did other things ( being as that I was in a couple pools, and all). Technically, I did as planned: I kept one eye on the score while I did other things. It’s just that the “other things” got seriously out of whack.

Let me set the stage: The weather in the bay area was pretty nice this weekend. Sunny, and inching toward warmish. On Saturday I got a tub of Tanglefoot and smeared it around the trunk of the grapefruit tree in the backyard. (That tree is the bane of my existence, but I’ll save that for another post.) Tanglefoot, which is supposed to keep ants or other crawly things out of the tree, allowing natural predators to kill off pests like aphids, scale, and the like, is a thick, gooey substance, about the consistency of axel grease. Or caramel ice cream topping. Take your pick. So I smeared and watched the ants get all confused. Kind of fun.

On Sunday, shortly before game time, I went out back again to let the cats have some nature and to do a few other things – like see how the confused ants were doing. As I peered at the tree trunk I learned a very valuable lesson:

Do not apply thick gooey (waterproof) substances at cat level.

Right in front of my horrified eyes, Isabella rubbed against the band o’ goo and instantly became “cat who is not allowed to touch anything.” "Cat with a weird haircut in her future" "Cat with paper towel stuck to her side."

Allow me to reiterate. It’s thick. It’s waterproof. And now, it’s on my cat.
No mere paper towel is going to remove it, and I can’t allow her to lick herself. I tried clipping the fur. My scissors couldn't cope with the gooey mess and I was seriously afraid that one of us would end up mortally wounded. I called the emergency vet clinic. How to remove goo? Butter, I was told. Then a bath.

Well, this actually makes sense. We all know that peanut butter breaks down chewing gum, so regular butter should oughta break down Tanglefoot. I chased Isabella around with a stick of butter. Rubbed and worked it into her fur. Like magic the goo disappeared and I was left with …

A buttery cat. Or, more precisely: A buttery, pissed off cat.

Into the bathroom for a spongebath. There was a fair amount of bleeding involved since I forgot the gloves, but the end result was a cat only slightly greasy, sorta soapy, and not at all gooey.

In my estimation Isabella spent the next three hours licking herself. I can’t claim that I got all the butter and soap off. And there may have been a speck or two of goo lingering in there somewhere. One thing is for sure: That combination of ingredients is bound to rise up and explode out of my cat. One end or the other. It’s just a matter of time.