The Cat Who Hated Rain?

There are moments when Scooter seems to need to prove that he is still a feral creature. This morning was one.

A rain storm swept the region during the night. Scooter, who spends the night indoors with his human provided food, clean litter box, and a bowl filled with bottled water, acted reluctant to exit into the storm’s residue when I opened the front door for him. Actually, he turned his back on it certain, I think, that rain fell only in the front of the house.

We went through the daylight basement and I opened the rear door, which opens onto a covered porch. He went out, and glared at the still falling drizzle. It was light rain, so I dared him to join me for our usual morning walk. Yes, that’s right; I walk my cat every morning. Or, perhaps, he walks me. We don’t discuss whose idea it was the first time two years ago, and have followed the daily routine since that day. He also comes when I whistle, which I’m certain he credits as my willingness to cater to his needs by alerting him of my readiness.

This morning, since the yard was soaked, and rain still fell, I didn’t think he’d want to walk. He did and even showed some enthusiasm when he saw that rainwater had collected on the boardwalk. When he began to drink it, I scoffed his effort as foolish since he had clean water inside. He glared and returned to licking like the feral cat he knows lives within.