From the toilet. He generally won't drink from a bowl. And yet he used to. But for some reason, since he moved in with me, nearly two years ago, he's decided the toilet is the place from which to drink.
The other night I woke in the middle of the night, which is usual, and made my way to the bathroom. He was up to his elbows, playing in the water and gave me a filthy look when I turned on the light. "Oh, I'm sorry", I said, backed up, switched off the light and stood outside the bathroom.
Honestly, I don't know. I did laugh at how that must have looked. Did he hurry up? No, not even a little bit. When he finished, and sauntered out of the bathroom, I wiped off the seat, sat down and started laughing. He came running into the bathroom, looked at me then touched his soggy paw to my leg and I laughed even harder.
He meowed a kind of "This chick is crazy" sound and went back to his seat.
I finished up, washed my hands, and at beside him. I went to give him a pet and he growled his usual olde man grunt, then pushed my hand away. I kissed him on the top of his head, to which he grunted again and went to bed.
About an hour later he came into the bedroom and woke me up...soggy paw to the face. I rolled onto my back and he stood on me...climbed over my head to stand on the window ledge and chitter at the birds. "Do you mind?" I asked him.
Eventually he climbed down, curled up in the middle of the bed and started to snore. "Well as long as you're comfortable" I told him. He grunted.
He's a jerk, yes, but he's my jerk.