One of my cats tends to scream and howl and bellow and race about like a complete maniac, while the other is as sweet and docile as a mentally impaired lamb.

When the first one wants something, you'll know it. Within seconds, most likely at 3 a.m.

Which is why I find it so heartbreakingly dear that Noah, the lamb, can be found at various, convenient times througout the week in this position: Just oh-so-patiently waiting for one of us to refill his water bowl.