Blue the Part-Time Lifeguard: Supervising Bathtime

Hi, I’m Amanda! Read my introduction to learn more about me and Blue, my fluffy fire point Himalayan-Persian cat.

There is nothing quite as relaxing as a bath after a long day. Temperature like a hot tub, dimmed lights, a good book, and peace and quiet. Sounds like a dream, right? In my house, I’m able to enjoy most of the above, but silence is not something that’s associated with my baths.

I’m pretty sure Blue thinks we are one and the same. Maybe I have feline energy or she’s just dubbed me her fellow house cat because being a remote worker means I am home a lot. Whatever the reasoning, I feel she’s decided to become my protector, needing to watch over me and make sure I am safe and happy at all times. She’s a great cat and I do love her for that. But there are times I feel her love can be a little overbearing.

Cats & Baths: What’s Normal Behavior?

I’ve seen a few videos of cats joining their owners in the bathroom, sitting tub-side, letting their tail wag in and out of the water like a personal wavemaker, and positioning themselves cleverly across the tap to keep them company. I am assuming these behaviors all stem from the same mindset: You are part of my clowder, and what you do, I do. We must stick together. You take care of me, so I take care of you, sort of thing.

It’s not very often that I get to enjoy a nice bath in my house as it's usually occupied by my kids. A nightly bubble-filled oasis, toys strewn throughout, and suction Paw Patrol characters fixed to the sides. No Blue in sight, though. They are not her people. They splash and scream. She trusts that they can fend for themselves. When I do find the extra time to pull out the toys and draw the hottest water I can possibly stand and hop in, Blue’s spidey senses tingle and in she comes.

Who Is Really In Need?

The visible anxiety I see her working through is one thing, but her bestie casually lounging motionless in a pool of neck-deep water is enough to send her over the edge. It’s a very concerning issue for her, and she takes it upon herself to patrol the side of the tub like she’s my personal lifeguard, ready to save me at a moment's notice. Her meows differ drastically from her loving ones, her ”I’m hungry; feed me now” sounds, and the soft kitty girl mews she makes when you wake her. The bath sounds are like beacons. Warning signals to the rest of the house that I am clearly in some sort of distress and in need of assistance. Luckily, she does eventually realize that I am fine and chills out a bit.

All jokes aside, I love her and her worrywart heart. It’s cute and certainly something to be celebrated. It’s cool to have this type of bond with her and to be honest, my bath would feel eerily quiet if she wasn’t there.