MSI Press Blog

  Bear (left) and Moo (right) at the water trough In our home of eight cats, water bowls are everywhere--at least, one in each room and on the catio. But the water trough is not just a convenience—it’s an institution. It started with Bear. A hunk whose solid part-Chartreux body fits his name. With the thirst of a marathon runner, he would drain bowl after bowl of water with such diligence that we found ourselves in the vet’s office asking, “Is he okay?” Tests returned with a shrug: healthy as can be. Well, a big cat needs lots of water, we figured, and kept filling those bowls every hour.  Eventually, we swapped out the master bedroom bowls for a large plastic container that looked like a trough. A water trough. These days, it takes over 100 ounces of fresh water a day to keep Bear and his siblings happily hydrated, most of slurped down by Bear. The cats love it. The master bedroom leads to the catio so it is a natural gathering spot for the cats, especially when the catio ...

  Bear and Moo at the water trough, in a better behaved moment Some cats drink from a bowl. Moo sometimes does but usually does not. He prefers the advanced techniques . 💧 Step 1: The Paw Ladle Why lower your face into a communal bowl when you can delicately scoop water out like a tiny Victorian gentleman testing his tea Checks depth Avoids whisker fatigue Keeps an eye on the peasants Creates splashy entertainment 💦 Step 2: The Trough Transformation We once upgraded to a "water trough" for our 6–7 big, thirsty cats -- a large rectangular container where 3-4 of the little guys could enjoy a drink together and where hefty Bear and Moo at least had more space than with a traditional water bowl. Well, after enjoyed a sip with Bear, Moo looked more intently and said, “Ah. A bath prepared in my honor.” Instead of drinking, he climbed into the trough and sat there like a serene, slightly damp Buddha. Because of course he was. And when he got it, he shook himself dry,...

  Kokee takes over the foreign aid supplies With a surprise cameo by Kokee the Sekoke In our household, the cats rule. Ten of them. A full feline parliament, complete with factions, committees, and a water‑trough caucus. They have routines. They have expectations. They have opinions. And then, one fine morning, the neighbor’s dog exploded through her screen door and arrived at our doorstep like a furry, panting meteor. Naturally, I brought him inside — because the street is no place for a confused dog with poor impulse control. I figured we’d wait out the 6–8 hours until his human returned. The cats, however, had not been consulted. Act I: The Great Retreat The moment the dog crossed the threshold, the entire feline population performed a synchronized evacuation worthy of Cirque du Soleil. Big eyes everywhere. The “What fresh hell is this” expression spread across the house like a contagion. One cat, who has never seen a dog, filed an immediate complaint with management. (...