Being incredibly fat means that she often sits up on a chair or a sofa, on her haunches, like a person, which can be slightly off-putting. It also means she can't always clean herself properly. She's developing dreadlocks.
So tonight I gritted my teeth, rolled up my sleeves, and washed her. In the sink.
When she stood bolt upright and started trying to sink her claws into the mirror above the sink to get away, I merely smiled and carried on washing her. I knew that cat-claws, while wonderful things, cannot get traction on the glass of a mirror. And that just-trimmed cat-claws can't allow a cat the size and shape of a small walrus to climb sheer glass.
Nobody had explained these simple things to Furball, though, and she went straight up the side of the mirror.
Sooner or later, I'll figure out how.