Confessions Of A Waterholic Cat

I know I’ve got problems

Hi, my name is Rowdy. I’m a waterholic.

It started with just a trickle, an innocent sip from the faucet. Oh, how it glistened. I touched it with my paw, just a little, then a little more, a little more.

That’s how it is with the hard drugs, junior. Once you start, you can’t stop. Soon I was crouched by the bathroom sink, waiting for my humans to turn on the faucet so I could get my fix.

Stick my head in? Yes, please! Let the water cover my head, run down my back. Oh, that hits the spot. Sometimes the humans will come and towel me off. Don’t they get it? An addict doesn’t want to be helped.

Water, water everywhere! Water bottles — stick my head in. Water cups — whap them with my paw so the human never gets to drink. And the holy grail — the great, glorious kitchen sink.

They say you’ve really got problems when you start to hurt others. It’s not my fault my sister started to get curious about the hooch. She was doing fine, following my lead. She might have run wild on the dope just like me.

Then she made an unfortunate jump and landed head first in the toilet. I don’t think she’ll be a waterholic now. Lightweight.

Sometimes the water runs dry. Then I’ve got to make my own water: I pee in the sink.

P.S. My sister is fine. Really. See? Here she is, warm and dry.

P.P.S. What, you’re arresting me? Public urination? I protest!