I feel fortunate to live in an area where the tap water is piped in from the East Baton Rouge Parish water supply. Our water is delicious, right out of the faucet. Those with discriminating tastes, however, find some water sources are better than others.
There's a large water bowl in the den, next to the dog food dish. It holds enough water that Butch, Kadi, Winston and Lucy can all drink as much as they want. I fill it with fresh tap water once or twice a day, and it suits Butch and Winston just fine. Kadi and Lucy, on the other hand, prefer to drink their water elsewhere.
In the hall next to the bedrooms is another water dish, a smaller one that I fill at nighttime. The two dishes are identical except in size, and the smaller dish is filled with the same tap water as the big dish. The boy dogs usually choose to drink water in the den, but Kadi and Lucy show a definite preference for the little bowl in the hall. I suspect their tastes are affected by their delicate sensibilities, that if they were human, it would never occur to them to drink wine from a juice glass instead of a stemmed wineglass.
The best water, however, isn't what's in the bowl in the hall. Both Kadi and Lucy conspicuously prefer to drink from yet a third container, one that holds water from a different source. They are intrigued, I suppose, by the fact that their favorite water isn't always available. When they can get it, they can't seem to get enough of it. No doubt this water tastes better because of the filters through which it passes and the thousands of tiny organic particles that give it its full-bodied flavor.
The other morning Kadi woke me by dancing frantically beside my bed, yipping and nudging me with her nose. She seemed desperate to go outside, and I assumed she urgently needed some bladder relief after a long night. I was wrong. Kadi raced past the dish of water in the hall and past the big dish full of water in the den. When I opened the back door, she bounded out into the yard only as far as the fourth stepping stone, one of the two that sit lower in the ground than the others, one that collects and holds rainwater. There she drank her fill.
I've always been careful with the dogs' water supply, but I'm having second thoughts about it. I wonder if, by being cautious, I've deprived them of some of the finer things of life. One day soon -- on a special occasion like a birthday or something -- maybe I should invite them into the bathroom and open the lid to the toilet.