Monday, September 04, 2006

Cats in Sinks: My Personal Beginnings

So far every single site that I have found about cats in sinks has been a photographic journey or celebration thereof. No one really goes into why. My parents, before I was born, had four cats living with them - J.D., Weasel, Tonya and Livingston (it's weird that I know about my parents' pet history, but they were important) - who were all later killed by an evil attack dog that moved into the neighborhood (Tonya made it the longest because she was batshit crazy and rarely moved from a cluster of rocks that she had declared her home). When they were alive and well, however, there was nothing that Livingston apparently loved more than sitting in a sink and listening to classical music, much like myself (sink = bath, classical = just whatever). He did not mind the occaisional drip of water that was the natural side effect of sitting in a sink, he took it philosophically and knew that there was a price to his porcelain perch. I did not know Livingston personally, but through reputation I learned at a young of age of cats with penchants for sinks. That was my introduction. Cats have been in sinks since before I was born or even conceived! They have been doing this for a long time, and we just keep on looking at it and not ever thinking about it. I've been hearing about cats in sinks ever since I can remember, after all.
Don't get me wrong. I have theories. Coolness of porcelain on a warm day, the perfect fit of a fluffball in a sinkbowl, or an innate feline desire to confuse me. I will get into these further. But next time you see a cat in a sink, let it know that the game is up. We will find out.


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