The Crinkle & Wrinkle Saga – Doubletrouble_sphynx

You know how your mom always nagged you to drink enough water and start moisturizing before it was too late? Yeah… I smiled and nodded, but teenage rebellion (and pure laziness) usually won.

Fast forward a lot of years and a few human wrinkles later—no kids of my own, but two very spoiled Sphynx cats who have turned me into the hydration police.

Fresh water bowls? Always full. A fancy water fountain? Obviously. Everything for the babies.
But are Crinkle and Wrinkle impressed? Of course not. They’re connoisseurs. They prefer only the finest:

The shower drain — which they expertly claw open with one wrinkly paw, flinging the drain cover across the bathroom because it gets stuck on their nail. And of course, flooding the room with a delightful eau de sewer aroma. The drain water must have some kind of magical flavor, because clearly, it’s worth the drama.

My drinking glass — which they hijack by dramatically hooking their paw over the rim, yanking it toward them like tiny pirates. (And yes, I end up tilting the glass for them because apparently I work here.)

The bathroom tap — where they insist I hold a finger in the stream so they can delicately lick water droplets like royalty at a champagne tasting. I wish I were joking.

The gross bucket of rainwater — left outside for two seconds too long. Blink, and you’ll find them gleefully splashing in it like it’s Evian, despite having pristine drinking options indoors. Apparently, a hint of dirt enhances the experience.

The toilet bowl — because apparently, nothing says “gourmet hydration” like sneaking a sip from the forbidden porcelain pool. They have absolutely no shame. One minute they’re daintily licking a glass, the next they’re elbow-deep in toilet water like tiny, hairless gremlins on a wild night out.

Meanwhile, the water fountain sits there… used only when they realize I’m too busy or not home. And even then, they have their own dramatic method: instead of calmly drinking from the large open area, they insist on shoving one of the bubbling water towers to the side, creating a constant clink-clink of ceramic tapping against ceramic.
And to think—if they just looked 15 cm to the left, they’d see a wide, perfectly still pool of water waiting for them. But no. Drama first, hydration second.

And let’s not talk about the aftermath.
Wrinkle, ironically the one with the, ahem, “recycling issues” (see previous blog), drinks like an elegant duchess—zero mess. Not a single droplet out of place.

Crinkle, on the other hand? Crinkle turns hydration into a waterpark experience. After one enthusiastic drinking session, there’s a 30 cm radius of droplets across the floor, furniture, and—somehow—my walls. Her whole face looks like she’s survived a rainstorm. I’m not even sure how much she actually drinks versus how much she wears.

The best part? The tiny muddy paw prints that follow. One step in a water puddle, and suddenly it’s brown, soggy footprints all over the floor. They hydrate. I mop. Circle of life.

Honestly, I could take a lesson from them. Stay hydrated, live passionately, and make a huge mess if necessary. Sorry, Mom—I’m trying.