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rhythmaningWe have two cats. They have names, of course, but usually I just call them, “cat”. Sometimes “puss-cat”, sometimes “bloody cat”, but usually just “cat”. Both of them.
The male is cute-but-stupid; the female, sensible-and-shy.
One male and one female – they are brother and sister, about eighteen months old, so they are still quite frisky and kittenish. They play a lot, they chase each other; they fight.
At moment, what CBS seems to play with most is the water-bowl. He pushes it around the kitchen, leaving puddles of water on the lino, as if trying to get at something underneath. He moves the bowl – now, actually a bowl within a bowl, since we got fed up with mopping floor – quite a distance and at quite a speed. Like cat-curling (only without the ice. Or the broom).
I thought maybe he had rabies, and had become hydrophobic, determined to rid the bowl of water. But then, they don’t go out (their choice); and I certainly hadn’t bitten him.
We thought perhaps there was something wrong with the water; Edinburgh water can be a bit chlorine heavy. (It gives a nice tang to the liquid. Bad for whisky, though.) So I poured out some older water, left in a bottle from before this new curious catty behaviour. It seemed just the same.
My wife, worried that whilst CBS was busy slopping around the floor, his sister might be deprived of drink (though since they seem to drink water from anywhere – from plant pots, from sinks and out of the bath – I didn’t believe this could really be a problem), decided they had to have fresh water to drink, and bought a bottle of mineral water. (That’ll go better in the whisky, then. If only the cats drank whisky.)
But still CBS sees the water as a toy rather than a drink. We must have the cleanest kitchen lino in town.
I have just wandered through to the kitchen, and the bowl has moved again. CBS comes up, miaows, and I stroke him; and, as he does when I stroke him, he rolls over and stretches. (It is what they do.) He rolls over; into a puddle. Cute, but stupid.
The male is cute-but-stupid; the female, sensible-and-shy.
One male and one female – they are brother and sister, about eighteen months old, so they are still quite frisky and kittenish. They play a lot, they chase each other; they fight.
At moment, what CBS seems to play with most is the water-bowl. He pushes it around the kitchen, leaving puddles of water on the lino, as if trying to get at something underneath. He moves the bowl – now, actually a bowl within a bowl, since we got fed up with mopping floor – quite a distance and at quite a speed. Like cat-curling (only without the ice. Or the broom).
I thought maybe he had rabies, and had become hydrophobic, determined to rid the bowl of water. But then, they don’t go out (their choice); and I certainly hadn’t bitten him.
We thought perhaps there was something wrong with the water; Edinburgh water can be a bit chlorine heavy. (It gives a nice tang to the liquid. Bad for whisky, though.) So I poured out some older water, left in a bottle from before this new curious catty behaviour. It seemed just the same.
My wife, worried that whilst CBS was busy slopping around the floor, his sister might be deprived of drink (though since they seem to drink water from anywhere – from plant pots, from sinks and out of the bath – I didn’t believe this could really be a problem), decided they had to have fresh water to drink, and bought a bottle of mineral water. (That’ll go better in the whisky, then. If only the cats drank whisky.)
But still CBS sees the water as a toy rather than a drink. We must have the cleanest kitchen lino in town.
I have just wandered through to the kitchen, and the bowl has moved again. CBS comes up, miaows, and I stroke him; and, as he does when I stroke him, he rolls over and stretches. (It is what they do.) He rolls over; into a puddle. Cute, but stupid.
