FOR A PERIOD OF A YEAR, we—the three bipeds of the house—served the role of persons for not only Watson, but also four cats. It turned out that four cats was a bit much even for the cats, so the most recent member was shepherded to a new, single-cat home.
Watson did his best to serve as the peacekeeping sheriff with his feline buddies. As we’ve seen, he’d suffer the frequent sharing of his bed with the cats, sometimes even to the point of being utterly displaced. But there was a time when he also showed an even-the-score twitch.
One evening, Watson stood stunned and motionless, looking down on his water and kibble bowls. I followed his gaze to see our cat Albert quietly lapping away at Watson’s water, unconcerned that his giant canine brother loomed over him. Then, our other cat, Parker, followed Albert, drinking calmly while Watson’s head hovered directly above. A few minutes later, my family heard very loud drinking sounds coming from Albert’s water bowl. Not long after, we heard similar sounds coming from Parker’s dish. Watson had drained both of the cats’ water bowls with zero effort at minimizing the splash-over.
Problem was, the cats didn’t care. They just went back to drink from Watson’s huge bowl. And he let them. He must have decided it was better to share than guard against a force that outnumbered him.
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