My mom and I have certainly had some difficulties in the past, but I can’t seem to remember any of them since we bathed the cats.

She offered to help, and I was going to turn her down in a bit of “My cats, my problem,” but I realized I was exhausted, and simply couldn’t do it myself.

It was her idea to get the buckets, the warm water, etc., since we’re having a day that’s the warmest one we’ve had in a while. Dunk, dunk, swoosh, changing buckets and grabbing for the flea shampoo and trying to avoid the claws.

And I saw them in all of their horror: skin and bones, sores from scratching, everything. Despite their incredible skinnyness, their hairlessness and their fleas, the most horrifying thing about them was their eyes.

I don’t think I will ever, ever forget their eyes.

They got their ear mite medicine, their worm medicine, and their flea medicine. I held them in a towel and tried to dry them off before they went into hiding again.

It’ll probably be a while before they trust me…they seem almost feral now, fighting over food and against each other.

I swear, I’ve learned more about human nature in the past 15 hours from watching abused cats than anything else, I think.

But, having seen them at damn near their worst, they can only get better.

And I have a whole lot more Chopin to read to my girls.