Esme, like most of her species, has an inborn aversion to water. Unfortunately, also true to her species, she is a slave to curiosity. Sometimes the combination of these two traits can get a silly tortoiseshell kitten into trouble.
To my mostly mock dismay, Esme finds the porcelain whirlpool endlessly fascinating. I often enter the bathroom to find her sitting in wait on the back of the white tank . She is patient, marking heaven knows how much time just hoping that I will come and push the handle to start the show, the small contained watery vortex that makes her little kitty heart go pitterpat, every single time.
It’s such a little thing to make her happy. Whenever I enter the small room to her greeting chirp, I oblige, push the handle and can’t help but laugh at her palpable kitten joy. I suppose you could say that she’s got me trained.
Sometimes, however, such addictions can lead to tragedy. Poor little Esme, so cute and curious, so intent in her observations, strayed that one step too close to the swirling waters below. Her fully catlike intensity of concentration caused her to misstep in a manner most uncatlike. Yes, to my real dismay and her absolute shock and horror, this evening Esme fell into the toilet. It was horrible, I tell you, just horrible. Such a tempest in a toilet bowl!
Esme had righted herself and begun to jump out as I also sprang into action. I caught the yowling wet black-brown thing in mid leap as she tried to escape the jaws of certain death. (Well, at least that’s what she thought had almost happened.) I scruffed the sputtering cat let and, not so thrilled to be handling a catlet doused in actual eau de toilette, dumped her into the sink where I proceeded to give poor protesting babycat Esme her very first, very thorough bath. Even greater unhappiness ensued.
I’m not sure she will ever forgive me.
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