I need to get a few people together and stage an intervention. I’m starting to feel the strain of living with someone with life-controlling issues. I’m afraid it has become obvious to most, but for any who still haven’t seen it, well... there’s no easy way to say this…

My Cat….is a tap addict.

And by tap, I don’t mean the whole Fred Astaire thing, which is too bad, because there’d likely be a way for me to make money off that. No, my cat is flat out addicted to the tap in the bathroom sink. The house comes with numerous other water sources that provide the good stuff without the necessity for a human to be badgered into turning a knob, including a 35 dollar “cat fountain” engineered, apparently , for no purpose at all besides feline drinking needs – but he turns his nose up at these. Heck, he won’t even drink from the toilet anymore. I am beginning to suspect that does without water all day, even when I am gone from 630 in the morning to 11 at night, just so he can hold out for the holy elixir that spills from the faucet I rinse my toothbrush under. After two or three obligatory “happy-to-see-you” belly rolls, he takes off for the bathroom counter with the urgency you’d expect if a Doberman had just bitten a chunk off his tail, and simply won’t stop meowing until I cave and give him what he wants. Anytime I get up and head in a direction that might conceivably lead to the bathroom (Which, in my place, is pretty much any direction at all) he scurries to that door and looks up at me with eyes that tell me I have the power to validate his entire existence. “Please sir, just a little bit more tap…”

Yeesh.