The water-bowl is a necessity in most cat-households. In some cases, it is replaced by a fountain, and in others by a dripping tap. Sometimes, one will find a combination of these sources of essential sustenance. But in my apartment, there is the bowl - three, actually. And periodically, I will discover one of them has been emptied, and the little food mat on which it stands, damp.
In the old house, cats pursued by others, or simply feeling high spirits, would crash into a bowl now and then, spilling its contents. That hasn’t happened in the new apartment, as the bowls are more out of the way. Yet, I have found, albeit infrequently, one bowl in particular devoid of its hitherto copious contents. I have been wondering how this occurred. Now, I think I have my answer.
One evening recently, I caught Renn in the midst of one of his studies. Renn has, as readers may be aware, rather a scientific bent, and water seems to be a special interest. He watches how it ripples and shimmers, catching the light. He stirs it delicately with a paw, and observes the effects. He will peer at it from different angles. I think he has taken his experiments a step further, to determine what happens when water spills.
This series of photographs doesn’t show the moment when his paw rested on the rim of the bowl. It does depict what I think is a mildly guilty expression afterward, however.
I am not upset with my big boy. I may have to buy a sturdier bowl, one less easily tipped. But Renn’s experiments are not conducted often, and there is an absorbent mat under the bowl for when they are. I will await events. Renn is a well-behaved cat with good manners, but now and then his curiosity triumphs over his restraint. I don’t mind waiting on him, and serving another, re-filled bowl of water.
But please, no tipping.