This year for Christmas, Santa brought Ray, Harvey, and Juno a water dish that recirculates water. Santa believed that possibly Harvey would stop drinking out of toilets if there were access to moving water. Santa was a bit trepidatious that Ray's typical reaction to burbling water would kick in, and that, initially, it could be a bit noisy around the house. Still, Santa thought it was worth a shot if the result was to have clean, dry toilet seats again.
The original water dish, next to Ray's food dish, was whisked away and replaced with the new high-tech device. The burbling water didn't make enough noise to set off the doghorn and the little motor that recirculates the water made an almost imperceptible low hum, nothing loud enough to disturb anyone.
Juno was the first to use the new appliance. After circling back and forth in front of it for a minute or two, curiosity got the better of her. Juno interestedly watched the water flow from the little well at top to the pool below. She tried a little, found that it was just like the old water, lost interest, and left.
|I THINK, it's just water|
Harvey, when he finally noticed the dish, raced past it, tail puffed. He stopped some distance away, watched it suspiciously, raced past it again, stopped, watched it, then raced past it again. When the thing failed to give chase, Harvey decided that perhaps it wasn't a monster and decided to investigate. To his delight, he found running water. Harvey drank from the lower bowl, walked away and returned to drink from the little bowl with the burbler at top. He found the whole experience extremely entertaining.
|Yeah. Yep. It's just water. |
Ray was a tougher nut to crack. He stood in the middle of kitchen listening intently, his eyebrows doing the Flatley on his forehead. He nervously moved a step closer then stopped. I spoke to him soothingly. Ray wasn't buying it. He circled to the other side of the dish and stood, listening, worried. He circled back to the middle of the kitchen and stood stock still, listening.
I went to the dish, dipped my fingers in the water, and waggled them. Ray's head tilted to one side; he moved a step closer. I waggled my fingers again. Ray moved close enough for me to stretch my arm out and put damp fingers under his nose. Ray licked the water off. I repeated the gesture. Again Ray licked the water off then stepped closer listening to the water move as I dipped my fingers in the bowl again. After repeating this four or five times, Ray stepped to the bowl and took a sip. I mentally congratulated Santa for the bright idea of the new bowl.
|Do you hear that?|
Over the next few days, I noticed that Ray had developed a new dining ritual. Whereas before he would simply eat the canned food in his bowl, his new ritual involved taking a mouthful, carrying it into the living room, eating it there, returning to his bowl for a mouthful, carrying it into the living room, eating it there, until all the food in his dish was gone.
I started to wonder what had prompted the new ritual and sadly came to the conclusion that the new water dish was the culprit. Although the low hum of the motor didn't bother the humans or the cats in the household, it obviously bothered the blind hound.
What IS that?
The water dish was whisked away to a remote location and replaced by its low-tech cousin. The bizarre dining ritual disappeared. Peace and tranquility returned to Ray the Blind Dog's life
|I don't like it. I don't like it at all. |
|You need to do something about this.|