Had Musco been an ordinary cat, he would have surely given up hours ago.  As it was he could no longer stand being as dirty as he was.  Rio had led him on quite the merry chase back and forth across the fields, but whatever pride the human in him still possessed would not allow him to quit so easily.  He wasn't even quite sure what he wanted from the woman; just that something was churning about in his gut and it wasn't that morning's mouse breakfast.<br/><br/>He quietly slipped over to the side of the house once he was absolutely sure none of the new guests were wondering in plain sight.  What he was doing wasn't really allowed.  The ones like him and Molly and Sally weren't supposed to be able to do what he was about to do, and he wasn't sure what would happen if he were found out.  Musco grabbed one end of the house out back and batted it around a bit like a piece of string before snapping back to attention.  He hesitantly curled his claws around the valve, as he had seen the humans do so many times before, and turned it until it squeaked and fresh water began to bubble out.  Some part of him screamed that water was bad, but another part felt oddly content with having it rush over his creamy skin and clean off the caked dirt and blood and other less savory fluids.  The catboy waggled it about all over himself and even in his hair until he was proper soaked and glistening.  Only when he felt absolutely clean did he turn the hose back off and try to hook it back around the stand like it had never been touched.<br/><br/>He arched his back, tight rump high in the air, and shook himself for awhile, but it barely got rid of any of the water.  Musco frowned and mewled irritably.  Maybe getting all wet hadn't been such a good idea.  He hardly wanted to wander about making mud underfoot.  If only he could get at one of those cloths the humans used...