There I was, with the cat fountain all cleaned and filled. Then as I lift it off the sink, my fingers decided they were buttered and did a deconstruction of the contraption.
Joey, who loves her water running, clean and fresh, was eagerly supervising the clean-up as usual. So she witnessed the whole incident and it has left trauma on her psyche. She’ll have to put up with refills done the mundane way for now, and she’s not happy. Until we get a replacement, easy life on Slackerme Street will have to be a tad uneasy for a while.