I thought cats were supposed to hate getting wet. My cat, Leo, arrived home earlier, utterly soaked. I dried him off with kitchen paper, which he decided to fight and shred to pieces, and I then put some food down for him. The flavour, duck and turkey, didn't meet with his approval, and I'm out of his beloved catnip drops, so he insisted on going out again. I thought he'd head for the shelter of next door's greenhouse, as its door is always open. But I was wrong. Take a look at this:
He sat on that rooftop for at least five minutes in heavy rain. It isn't very visible on the video clip, but you can certainly hear it. The only thing that shifted him, was his curiosity, when he saw me filming him. I thought for sure he'd want to come back in, so I began filming again, hoping to catch him hopping off the roof and in through the bedroom window. But he gave me one of his arrogant, "not bloody likely" looks, before stomping off across the roof, still in no hurry to escape the rain. Is he really a cat? Or did I adopt some kind of alien hell-fiend, cunningly disguised as a domestic cat?
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