Last summer, we adopted this kitten:
Actually it turned out she was a he. And he's now a big, fluffy, incredibly soft cat. Check him out:
I know. He's awesome, right? Technically, he’s still a kitten and he’s got the wild energy of a pre-schooler, which is good because we happen to have one of those living in our house too. The Bean likes chasing the cat around. But the cat doesn't seem to mind because he always comes back to hang out in whatever room we happen to be occupying. In fact, he's laying nearby right now.
Ginko, or as I like to call him the Gink, has displayed some idiosycracies, which makes him fit right in with our family. Lately, we've noticed that he has a bizarre compulsion to put things into his water dish. I've never seen a cat do this before. Just about every other day, we find a new object floating in the bowl. So far we’ve discovered the cap to a water bottle, a wrapper from a piece of string cheese, a loofah, toy mouse, toy ball, toy ribbon on a stick, the hangtag from a new piece of clothing and a playing card.
We have one weird feline.
We also have a fish. Actually we've had several fish. WonderWife™ thought it would be cool to hang a small fishtank on the wall and get a Betta for the Bean's room. Problem is, they keep dying on us. The first one croaked because of an unexpected cold snap and a broken heater. The second because WW™ had pregnancy brain and forgot to feed it. I have no idea what happened to the third. And frankly, the fourth looked like it was knocking on death's door when we got him. So rather than be forced to expose our son to the concept of death, we keep getting new ones.
Sushi 4.0 passed away earlier this week, but neither WW™ or I had time to replace him. So he had to sit on the bottom of the bowl for a day or so. I know, I know, it's gross. But it's not like we had a choice. Removing the bowl from the room would raise questions. As would a bowl sans fish.
The other night, I thought we were busted. The Bean looks at the fishbowl and asks, "What's Sushi doing?"
"He's sleeping," I replied. It was easy for the Bean to buy this because Sushi was nestled against the rocks on the bottom of the bowl. I had learned that Bettas sink when they die, rather than float, after the unfortunate passing of the original Sushi.
Amazingly, WW™ was able to take both kids to the pet store and buy a new fish without them realizing. However, Sushi 5.0's fins are much larger than the previous Sushi and the Bean has taken notice. The next morning, I overheard WW™ telling the Bean that the fish's fins are bigger because he's awake. So my son now believes that after a fish wakes up, it's fins double in size.