If Winston were a Playboy centerfold, and I understand that many odd things would have to transpire in order for that to happen, in the questionnaire part where he filled out his turn-ons and turnoffs, his turn-on would definitely be caps to water bottles.
(His turnoffs would be our other cat Ruby and being accidentally sprinkled with water from the sink. You should SEE how offended he gets if you get water on him. He is so mellow otherwise, but splash a little water on that creature and he goes huffing out of the room like you questioned his heritage. Geez.)
Before his life was ruined and we got this dog, there were eight million seven hundred and fifty thousand water bottle caps on our floor at all times. He would bat them around, and them carry them in his lips like prey. Which really mimics how big cats in the wild do it, with really enormous wild water bottles.
And oh, he was annoying about it. If you were drinking a bottle of water, he would sit over you like a vulture. "You gonna need that bottle cap? You usin' that bottle cap?" Sometimes he would try biting it off himself.
Once we got Tallulah, though, I didn't throw him the caps, for fear Lula would eat them. Winston would literally put a cap in Lula's ass.
Now the dog is getting bigger and she is listening to me when I say "leave it" and "stay," so I am letting that beleaguered cat have his caps back, as long as I watch him like a hawk the entire time and throw the thing away once he's over it. It's relaxing, is what it is.
This, however, has brought the obsession back full force to Winston. He had kind of forgotten he liked the caps, and now the sweet nectar of that orb of plastic has returned.
So imagine my delight when I drank a bottle of water and left the DING DANG CAP next to the bed last night.
Winston didn't discover it until 4:52 this morning. I know this because that is when I woke up today, never to return to the land of slumber. I have 49 pages of really text-heavy scientific pages about electrophoresis due today. Do you know how many I have read? One. Do you have any idea what electrophoresis is? Neither do I.
He starts batting the thing around the bedroom, which awakens Tallulah, so she stirs. "Leave it," I muttered. Poor Tallulah left it, but you could tell she didn't want to. It sounded like Winston was practicing for his tap lessons down there. Or his hockey tournament. Oh, he was batting and pouncing and swishing and doing the sideways spider kitty thing. Tallulah started to get up again.
"LEAVE IT!" I said again, wishing I could throw the cat down a mountain. This time Tallulah lay back down, but started talking. She does this thing where she sounds like Chewbaca and the Tasmanian Devil. "Rooooow ooow rrrooowwwr. Ooow rrooow gggrrrrroowww!" said Tallulah.
So that, folks, is why I am going to be a stellar employee today and why I wish I were one of those "I really don't care much for pets" type of people. Maybe I should just adopt teenage pets. You notice Ruby and Francis had nothing to do with this scenario.
Then again, Winston's centerfold brought in a lot of dough.