Safe inside, toasty warm, while water pitter-patters on the roof… describe your perfect, rainy afternoon.
“What did you say Mrs. Human? It’s raining. No way am I going anywhere.”
“But Tabby you would be sheltered outside on the porch from the balcony above.”
“I don’t care about being sheltered. Rain is wet, it come from above and it is not normal. We don’t even have a word for it in meow. Bastet banned it from our language from the beginning.”
“But you drink water.”
“That is different. That is water that arrives from below. We have a choice of getting our paws wet or not. It is one of the most enjoyable pleasures of a feline to daintily dip the paw into a bowl of water and savour the flavours lick by lick on the tongue afterwards. You could perhaps compare it to an old wine that has matured in the caves of porto. It is exquisite, the flavour of life.”
“But it is only ordinary water Tabby, the same that come from above. It all arrives from above, but we humans collect it.”
“Do you really think that any self-respecting feline would stand in the so-called collected rain and let it run over the carefully styled fur. It would ruin my appearance. I would be just one heap of smelly hair. Leave the rain to the dogs, they glory in it, rolling in the mud. We felines take pride in our appearance. And now leave me to my afternoon sleep. By the way you could perhaps clean my cushion when I am finished. I noticed some feline hairs an whiskers have collected over time. That would be something to do on a rainy afternoon.”