Relatively Trained

NaBloPoMo tells me that February’s theme is “relative”. Not knowing whether the blogging site means “comparative,” “kinsman,” or something Einsteinian — and thus beyond my comprehension — I’m going with Door #1 today.

As my blog title indicates, I live in a house full of males. They include two male Siamese cats, Alpha and Fat; they’re litter mates and brothers. Alpha, obviously, is the alpha male and is quite clearly Wizard’s cat. Alpha hardly
pays attention to anyone else, unless he wants something. Fat is the pudgy younger brother, purrs like a lawnmower, and is fondly attached to me and WineGuy.

While I would occasionally see Fat first thing in the morning, Alpha was never around, presumedly ensconced in Wizard’s room. Lately, however, he two cats stand outside my door and howl until I let them in. They saunter into my bathroom and sit by the bathtub. This morning, Alpha was sitting on the ledge of the spa tub staring at me. His icy glare indicated his utter displeasure. I imagined this conversation:

Me: Hi, Alpha! What do you want?
Alpha: I’m sitting here waiting for the water. Where is the water? I require fresh water, and it is not here. It was here before.
Me: Talk to me. [You are a Siamese after all.] Do you want me to turn on he water?
Alpha: Duh! What did I just say? Do I have to spell it out?

As I turned the faucet to a trickle, I thought “Great, another spoiled child in my house. Who is responsible for this?”

Who, indeed: The one who trained them … relatively.

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