When I was little, I used to refer to water as
WaWa. I am not even sure how the term came about, but I think that, because children cannot pronounce words properly and completely, that this was the easiest way for me to communicate that need. That term stuck with me, even in my adult life, though I choose, carefully, who to share it with, and now here I am sharing it....duh!
Of course, there's a story connected to this.
BJ and I have a daily routine. This routine never changes, and many of the details will not be included here, but the basis of that routine consists of milk (a.k.a
MiLkY) and
WaWa.Preface all of this with the knowledge that BJ follows me, intently, from the moment I get out of bed to the moment I start my breakfast preparation. He is like a little clingon, talking constantly, and almost tripping me as I weave my way around him and into the kitchen.
If we both manage to make it to the kitchen without (a) me tripping, and (b) BJ getting stepped on, the routine, broken down into 2 Phases, goes something like this:
=>
MiLkY.
BJ, still talking constantly, plants himself firmly and squarely by the fridge, exchanging glances between me and the fridge door. Once I have the container of
MiLkY in my hand, those glances turn into piercing stares, fixated on the movement of my hand. As I reach for the little plastic 1/4 measuring cup, he will sit up and take notice, most assuredly knowing what will come next....the descent of the measuring cup. When the cup has some
MiLkY in it, he dances around in circles, and starts talking even more, watching for the magic cup of
MiLkY to make it's descent. With the cup of
MiLkY on the floor, he laps it up and heads off for the second phase of our daily routine.
=>
WaWa.
By now you might think that I can carry on with my breakfast, and that BJ will find a good spot to nestle in. Not So! He trots off (all the while talking) to the bathroom, jumps onto the toilet seat (where, by the way, the lid is always down), and then onto the sink. (Note: BJ does not, and never has, licked out of the toilet bowl *PHEW*).
Then he sits there, staring out at me. If I become involved in something else, I will inherently know that I am being stared at, and sure enough, there he is, positioned Garfield-like on the sink, staring out at me and talking. That's my call to action. When I get closer to him, his talking accelerates, and he now shifts his focus between me and the
WaWa faucet, waiting for the drips of
WaWa to flow so that he can lick and play.
Lately though, something funny has become apparent. BJ almost (and I did say almost) seems to be saying
WaWa. It's not a clear nor precise pronunciation, but to my ears it sounds like
WaWa. If I ask him if he wants
WaWa, he will lovingly look up at me and, in his cat-like manner say
WaWa.
....and my heart melts. When he does this
WaWa thing, I hug him close, and while bestowing sweet kisses on his head, he nudges his head against mine.
Some people express thhe notion that cats are useless creatures. That they are not very intelligent because they don't talk or do tricks, but not to me. To me, they are more than just this. My main man BJ is more than just being intelligent and doing tricks. He holds the key to my heart, and without him I would be so very lost.
A small painting spree has overtaken me, and has turned into insanity. What started as a desire to paint my vintage mailbox has turned into painting insanity.
