The happy cat dance

Our older cat is fourteen, and is a great cat. He will allow himself to be picked up, carried around, cuddled and turned over, all without protest. He lives a fairly quiet life. Sleeping most of the time, coming downstairs when he thinks there is food in order to (hopefully) score some chicken or beef or (the best) tuna.

He’s also a diabetic, and drinks a lot of water.

Several years ago we purchased a water fountain to give him fresh aerated water. About a month ago, the pump finally gave out. The cat spent his days staring sadly at the fountain, looking at me reproachfully whenever I would walk by.

The new pump came, and I installed it. It’s a bit noisier than the last one, and I wasn’t sure how he would take to it.

I needn’t have concerned myself. As I left the room, I swear I saw a very happy cat doing a small dance of joy.


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