One autumn weekend, several years ago, the forecast was for fine weather, so I optimistically washed virtually everything in the apartment and put it on the balcony to dry. Some of it objected vociferously and bit me; I told Kit it was a splendid opportunity for his fur to air dry.
Kit has invented and perfected the art of Sulking Loudly, which he promptly commenced. It involves ignoring everything you say, whilst talking contemptuously about you but never to you, whilst ensuring you are in earshot, like so:
“My Mum is trying to kill me! It’s autumn, and she dunks me in the water, and tries to drown me. When that doesn’t work, she puts me outside with wet fur!”
“So, now she’s trying to kill me with New-monia, which is way worse than Old-monia. You get it from having a bath in autumn, and sitting on the balcony with wet fur. If you get it you will definitely die, sometimes twice!”
“It might not be too late for me. If Mum really cares, there’s still time to revive me with the hair-dryer.” He attempted a pathetic cough (and accidentally farted).
A sucker for a marathon guilt trip, I sighed and touched his fur, ready to get out the hair-dryer.
I eyed him with a raised eyebrow. “Kit!” I said incredulously, “Your fur is completely dry.”
“I was testing you,” he said smugly, “But can you please blow dry me next time?”
I laughingly agreed and went inside, while Kit sunbathed on the balcony.
A short time later, I heard rain on the roof. As I rushed, cursing, to the balcony to bring in the washing, I passed Kit rushing inside, alarmed and dripping wet. He turned to me and squeaked, “I don’t know what you did to them, but the neighbours are hosing your washing!”
Although his first birthday was fast approaching, it seemed that the last time it had rained Kit was too young to remember, so we sat down and had a little talk, while the washing got another rinse.
Once I had explained what rain was, Kit asked me if this was caused by climate change.
“…because it never used to rain in Perth. It hasn’t rained in Perth in my whole life, which is a very long time now I’m almost one!”
He added that he didn’t really mind the rain now that he knew what it was, but could I please blow dry him, now, as he could feel a bout of typhoid coming on.
A woman of my word, I blow dried him till he was nice and fluffy, and free of all imagined diseases.