It's Monday in my world, and so I was planning to take a shower in preparation for going to work at the nation's fourth busiest control tower (shameless plug). To set up the rest if this little story, I need to mention that my current living accommodations are a tad unorthodox; while most 'normal' people have an apartment, house, or condo, I live in a motor home. For those who have a hard time picturing what I'm actually talking about, here's a picture of CV's current home sweet home:
As you might imagine, space is somewhat restricted. For instance, while the bathroom has a tub, it's not even close to a real full-size bath tub - more like a 18" x 30" shower stall that can hold water. As this particular motor home is also 20 years old, there have been various mechanical and system issues to deal with. The plumbing, for instance, has on a couple of occasions decided to leak in assorted inaccessible areas. As such, I don't keep it connected to the water and sewer full-time, preferring to be on hand whenever there's a chance of something happening. Thus, there are times when the water tank has to be refilled or the waste tanks have to be emptied. Now that the stage is set, on with the story.
After I got in the shower, I noticed that the water wasn't draining out of the mini-tub. A quick check of the drain determined that it wasn't clogged, so the gray water tank was apparently full (gray water is from the sinks/shower; black water is the toilet waste, which has its own tank). Having ascertained this, I continued my shower, letting the 'tub' slowly start to fill. So far, so good. Now let me introduce the other player in this story:
Meet Maybelle, who's been with me since my days in New Orleans. Although she's been on a diet of sorts, she still weighs at least a stone and a bit (yes, I've been reading British authors lately). She also has a fascination with running water. You see where this is going.
I'm nearing the end of my shower, with the accumulated water standing about ankle-deep, when there's a sudden draft and I realize that the bathroom door wasn't latched. This realization was quickly followed by the head of a gray and white feline appearing in the gap of the shower curtain. Before I could prevent it, said feline jumps up on the edge of the mini-tub. While most cats normally have a pretty good sense of balance, the wet one-inch lip of the mini-tub was more than she had bargained for; momentum carried her on in. Following the impressive splash, her fascination with running water was soon overcome by discovering that she was now up to her belly in the stuff. Panic ensued, with the soaked cat flailing around the shower stall in her attempt to escape; I think she did four laps. I'll let you imagine the rest, except to say that I had to take another shower to rinse off after extricating her from the tub and mopping up what seemed like an ocean of water on the floor. And I'm glad I trimmed her claws just a week or two ago. And to think I prefer cats as household companions . . .