With the windows open all weekend, I had the chance to catch up with our neighbor cat, Baby Girl. If you read Friday’s post, you may recall that Steve was laughed out of his gang initiation with the Springhill Ballers for wearing what was evidently a not very gang-like outfit.
On his way home, Steve passed members of the Springhill Ballers’ rival gang, the Creekview Disciples, who hooted and hollered at him. After getting laughed out of his own gang initiation, he was particularly sensitive to perceived ridicule.
One of those cats he passed was his ex-boyfriend [who dumped him], Willow. Steve was mortified. As it turns out, however, according to what Baby Girl tells me, that hooting and hollering was because they thought Steve looked F-I-N-E. Willow especially thought Steve looked good.
I haven’t shared this new information with Steve yet even though it would make him feel better. He’s finally starting to get over Willow and I prefer it that way!
But this isn’t even what I want to write about today. Today I want to address an issue that’s been bothering me for some time now: The state of our water bowl.
We cats have a water bowl that we share almost exclusively in addition to the water fountain in the kitchen which is shared by everyone. I say “almost exclusively” because Walter is terrified of the fountain and so drinks from our bowl. But that doesn’t bother me.
What bothers me is Ethel’s need to dip her filthy paws in our drinking water leaving bits of litter to settle at the bottom. Litter! In our water!!
Now, you may ask why I wouldn’t prefer to use the filtered water fountain anyway. That’s a valid question – if you don’t know that Sherman dips his muddy nose in the water after digging outside and then dribbles water all around making a gigantic, slobbery mess. Gross!
Ethel claims that giving her a bowl of her own would solve all of our problems. She waxes nostalgic for days past when she says she solely possessed the best water bowl ever. According to Ethel, the bowl was so big she could stand in it and drink, like a lioness drinking from a watering hole in the Savannah.
Frankly, I’m not sure such a bowl ever existed.
So I asked Violet, who is old and has a long memory, if she recalled this fantastical water bowl. Violet said the bowl is real, but it didn’t belong solely to Ethel.
Ethel and Violet shared the bowl and, like now, Ethel made a real mess. According to Violet, our moms tired of mopping up after Ethel who left a trail of wet paw prints everywhere she stomped. And that’s when the bowl mysteriously disappeared.
For the sake of my own sanity – and health – I must find this bowl and convince our moms to return it to use. If only I knew where to look….