how to tame a wild cat

i came home after the morning service yesterday finding bjork with his fur sticking together in patches; reeking with that distinct methane odor of a stagnant canal (at the back of the house) where he reportedly fought fiercely with a stray, his left cheek sporting a nasty swell. he was still shaking even minutes after he enterred the shop.

everyone's sore vexed about his sorry state. without preamble, mom prepared his bath and went into an elaborate soaping and rinsing. the cleansing ritual went far longer than the poor feline can endure though the heated water was comfortably warm to the touch. nevertherless, he was pretty sick about it, off to sleep he went.

too wary lest he be subjected to another bath, the poor thing had to forgo lunch and dinner altogether and elected to sleep indeed. i found him neath a table in sweet slumber.