OCD

Obsessive cat disorder, I mean.

And before I go any further, you've probably noticed that today's pointless photo is not of a cat.

That's because I was too lazy to take one.

Anyway. OCD. I've decided that Max has it. It's occurred to me that if you were watching a human behave the way Max often does you'd wonder if maybe he needs medication of some sort.

For one thing, there's the whole water issue. There are a couple of water bowls for the cats in this house, but Max prefers to get his water from more challenging sources. The bathroom tap, for instance. If you run the tap in the upstairs bathroom you're almost guaranteed to have Max come in as soon as the door is opened so that he can lick the one or two remaining drips off of the spout (and that, boys and girls, is precisely why I don't drink water from that tap. If you come to visit I'd suggest pretty much the same course of action for you). But the water thing doesn't stop there. This time of year he's an obsessive window licker.

Yep, windows. Or the condensation off of the windows, to be more precise.

If you sit in the living room for more than, say, twenty minutes I can promise you that in that time the cat will have brushed aside the vertical blinds to lick the window at least once. Maybe more if he's recently had a snack and needs to wash it down with something. He alternates between the living room window and the one in my father's bedroom. I guess they have the best tasting glass in the house or something.

I could go on with some of the other weirdities Max commits, but I think I'll save them up for the next time I can't think of anything to blog about. If I start saying I have nothing in the next while just remind me that I was going to blather about the cat's occasional lack of eyebrows...





No, I'm not kidding.

Later, folks.