I think the cats may be British. I believe this because they line up, very politely--one behind the other--to drink from the faucet. Studies have shown that, in Great Britain, it only takes two people waiting for something to form a "queue." In the United States, it takes seven (and a lot more in NYC, especially among middle-aged women hoping to get good seats at a taping of The View--now, there's a bunch of savage bitches).
If I were at the box office waiting to purchase a ticket to Smuckers Stars on Ice ( no, I'm not kidding...wanna make something of it??) or, at Costco to return a twelve-pack of "magic-eye" night lights, with one other person who stood directly behind me, I'd be pretty certain that he or she was a deranged killer....or, now that I've seen this study, British.
By this time my very orderly cats have quenched their thirst and lined up--like the Brits I suspect they are--at their bowl for some crunchies. I am now trying to do the daily crossword without glasses, marveling that Hoda hasn't yet hit Cathy Lee with a bat and happily anticipating the first of four back-to-back episodes of Cash Cab. The cats, dispersed from their queue, have begun their important day's activities: napping and snacking.
I think I'll head out and stand directly behind the next person I see. If I tell them I'm British ("like my cats"), especially with this Brooklyn accent, I'm sure they'll be fine with it.