This morning, on a complete and total whim, I decided to make the 30 minute drive out to my parents' house in order to relax and spend a little time hanging out with my parents. A good idea in theory; however, my parents were both already off to work. And relaxing? Forget it. A million phone calls and three hyperactive cats nipped that lofty dream in the bud.
My sister's cat, Gaston, lives at home with my parents because our lanlord does not allow us to have animals in our apartment. Gaston is a small, sleek, skittish beast who is afraid of pretty much anything and everything, including television remotes, bees, and his own shadow. He is, however, remarkably smart for such a stupid animal - he runs to the back of the toilet whenever it is flushed, looking and pawing at the pipes as if he knows to where the goodies have been whisked away. He has also recently figured out how to drink water out of the sink. He paws the faucet handle until the water turns on and then proceeds to lean into the slow stream of water, slurping and licking and generally making a mess in the quest to quench his clearly insatiable cat thirst. It's quite a process to watch. I think it tantamount to Prometheus discovering how to make fire or Henry Ford first thinking, 'hey, let's make a thing that drives so we can stop riding these reeking horses. My ass constantly smells like ass.'' It's like I can visibly see evolution happening before my very eyes.
He's cute and tiny, can chug liquids, and is smarter than most people that I deal with on a daily basis. I approve this cat.
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