CATBATH   Some people say cats never have to be bathed.  They say cats lick themselves clean.  They say cats have a special enzyme of some sort in their saliva that works like new, improved Wisk - dislodging the dirt where it hides and whisking it away.  I've spent most of my life believing this folklore.  Like most blind believers, I've been able to discount all the facts to the contrary, the kitty odors that lurk in the corners of the garage and dirt smudges that cling to the throw rug by the fireplace.

The time comes, however, when a man must face reality: when he must look squarely in the face of massive public sentiment to the contrary and announce:  "This cat smells like a port-a-potty on a hot day in Juarez." When that day arrives at your house, as it has in mine, I have some advice you might consider as you place your feline friend under your arm and head for the bathtub:

Know that although the cat has the advantage of quickness and lack of concern for human life, you have the advantage of strength.  Capitalize on that advantage by selecting the battlefield.  Don't try to bathe him in an open area where he can force you to chase him.  Pick a very small bathroom. If your bathroom is more than four feet square, I recommend that you get in the tub with the cat and close the sliding-glass doors as if you were about to take a shower.  (A simple sh