A Mermaid's Song

I've written before about how our cat, Molly, has finally come off her throne by letting Ethan pet her. In fact, over the past couple of months, Ethan has made a lot of progress, to the point where she almost acts like a dog by rolling around on the floor while Ethan rubs her belly.

Terry and I were amazed, and a little grateful, by Molly's change of heart. Maybe we won't be guilted into getting a dog after all. Molly is finally earning her keep by providing some actual comfort to her owners.

And it's about time! This cat has it so good. She spends more time sleeping in our comfy bed than I do. And if she's not sleeping, you can usually find her sunning herself in the back yard. Or warming herself atop the water heater in the basement. Or curled up under the bed when she needs to be ALONE.

I really don't think Molly has anything to complain about, but don't tell her I said that. In her mind, there's one thing she's being unfairly denied--fresh, running water.

Molly isn't content drinking from her water bowl. Every time I go in my bathroom, she leaps onto the sink and meows maniacally at me, "Turn on the faucet now!!" I tell her no, I'm not wasting gallons of water when she has a perfectly good water bowl in the basement. "Meow," she whines, and hops back onto the bed.

I should have warned Ethan about Molly's lust for running water. Then I wouldn't have stumbled upon this:

"Ethan," I ask, "did you turn the water on for Molly?"

"Yeah," he said. "She kept running into the bathroom, and then jumped on the sink. She wanted me to do this."

It's the price us cat owners pay for love.