Water Sports, Part 2: Dash, Lick, Dart

Now it seems that recently, in addition to the long stints of water drinking --

(“When I drink, I drink; when I don’t, I don’t”)

-- The Smee has also taken to positively dashing those last few feet to his water bowl.

While he may enter the house slowly, stand, lick, take a step, sit, feast at his crotch a bit, sit up, look around, vigorously lick upside his neck,

when he gets to within 4 or 5 feet of the bathroom door, he commences a serious jog that propels him, in a darting fashion, to his water bowl.

Water Sports, Part 1: from Quaint to Wee

Mister Smitty runs for his water!

Ever since The Smitty began to eschew his outdoor water supply, quaintly painted metal watering can 

(canonized in blogs #@!% through &%!$ … see Archives, sub-basement 3, turn right at the stacks marked “Ancient, Boring”)

and began to scour the shower floor for scraps of fresh water, The Misters have installed a wee bowl of water on the shower’s ledge, to which The Smitty has taken like a cat to water (I mean drinking water).