My daughter’s favorite story from my life:
When I graduated high school, I lived for a few months on a tiny farm. One of my jobs was to get up each morning and milk the six goats on the farm. I’d lead each full-uddered goat to the stall, strap her head into the feeding station, position my stool, and milk her into a metal pail.
There were two farm cats that would come to watch: a huge orange tom, and a gray queen. The farmer had told me about the orange tom, so when I was bored I would turn the goat’s teat toward him and squirt a jet of milk straight at his face. And I swear before God, that cat would open his mouth and drink the milk straight out of the air, lapping so quickly that he’d hardly spill a drop.
That gray queen would watch, too, so one day I tried it on her: I aimed the teat at her face and let fly. And you’ll never guess what she did:
Milk went everywhere: all over her eyes, her ears, her back. She was furious. She glared at me while licking all the milk off of herself–
and then kept staring at me, waiting for me to do it again.
For the rest of that summer, both cats would perch beside the milking stall, and every time the orange tom would open his mouth to drink the milk, and every time the gray queen would sit there with her fool mouth shut, never figuring out that if she’d just open her mouth she could drink the milk without getting drenched.
And yes, typing it up I can see how fantastically dirty the story sounds, but it never even occurred to me at the time.