There are few, few things in this world that I have come to regard as so entirely true as the phrase “cats hate water.” Never, barring a few species of larger cats, have I known of any such animal that enjoyed water, not house cats anyway. But then, I stayed the night at friend’s apartment.
It was innocent enough. We had gone to a late, late showing of a long, long movie, and rather than have me drive the 30 minutes back to my house, he offered me his spare bedroom for the night. Needless to say I accepted.
Upon rising the next morning I determined the need for a shower and so asked him to point me in such a direction. He took me to the one in his bedroom, as the guest shower was currently being used to grow some sort of water plant. (No, this is not a comment on his housekeeping skills. He studies them).
He lets me in, performing all of his proper host duties, i.e., point out where he kept the extra towels and warning not to turn the hot water on too much as it “means business.” Just before he slips back out he drops one final warning. “Careful. Blacky likes water.”
Now would be as good a time as any to mention that said friend has a rather large longhaired black cat, which he rescued from PetSmart after going to buy some fish. He, somewhat un-creatively, has named his pet Blacky. And no, he never got the fish. The tank he had bought for the fish is now home to yet another species of water plant. Life is twisted like that sometimes. But anyway, I nodded, no doubt assuring him I understood and he left me alone.
It wasn’t until I was half way through my shower, soaping up my hair, that the trouble really started. I was reaching for a washcloth to wipe away the soap suds threatening to roll into my eyes when I suddenly got a handful of something warm, wet and fuzzy.
Blacky had joined me in the shower, and was now sitting calmly on the built-in seat, enjoying the spray that fell over my shoulder.
Of course I did not know that at the time, as my eyes were clinched shut, and so my mind leaped to the most plausible scenario, (cats who like to take showers being the farthest thing imaginable from plausible). I was showering with a gigantic, fuzzy, spider.
I screamed, took a deep breath, and then screamed some more. Blacky, of course, took this as his cue to leave, splashing water everywhere as he shot out of the shower and towards the bedroom. It’s truly amazing just how much water cat hair can hold.
I recovered, much embarrassed, not too many moments later, and after I got out, my host sheepishly explained that Blacky was real good at opening the bathroom’s pocket door. He apologized profusely for not having warned me.
I told him that it wasn’t his fault. After all, what are the odds that he would have a cat that not only enjoyed water, but could open doors as well? Frankly, I never would have believed him.
But one thing is for certain. I will never hear the old adage “Cats hate water” again without thinking, “If you only knew.”