Drinking Habits

James drinks out of the toilet now. I'm not sure how or why he learned that, but it's suddenly his new favorite thing. He gets so deep up in there that it's pretty much just his haunches and tail sticking out of the bowl, because apparently when he drinks he likes to submerge up to his shoulders. So, now if I'm even slightly distracted, or if it's dark and I decide I need to pee, there's a one in three chance I'm going to sit on my cat, causing him to do some amazing gymnastic move, wherein he flips his body around, slow motion-y, without getting the rest of him in the water, and uses my butt as some sort of gripping device so that he doesn't end up on the wrong side of my Capri Sun, which hurts so bad I vaguely consider going outside for the rest of his life, or until they come up with some solution other than a toilet.

"Can't you just teach him not to drink out of the toilet?" a co-worker said after I told her the situation.

"Have you met my cat?"

"No."

"I can't teach him that."

"Why not?"

"Because it's so cute when he does it! He gets his little kitty paws all up in there and then laps the water - like I can actually hear him lapping."

"Dude. . . "

"You'd be way cuter if you lapped too."

"No, I'd be single."

"Whatever."

"And most likely childless."

"And?"

"Do you see what I'm getting at here?"

"I'm going to pretend very hard that I don't."

"Please don't do this to your mother."

"Ok, I have to get back to work."

"I'll write her a memo."

"You wouldn't."

"Oh, wouldn't I?"

"Fine! I'll teach him not to drink out of the bowl."

"Good."

"But I'm not stopping him from showering with me."

"Baby steps."