violetcheetah: (peter)
Let me preface by saying I've had a... character-building week.  Found my breaking point, and then had to keep going.  Twice.  So I got home last night still on edge, and was of course immediately swarmed by cats, which is both stressy and adorable.  I generally talk to them as I get ready to feed them: "Yes, you are starving, I see that, and as soon as I get my coat off, I will feed you."  I feed them dry food, but a few months ago, Chess, my 14-year-old girl, decided that regular food was no longer tasty enough, even if she was hungry.  She sniffs at it and it's like she doesn't recognize it as food.  So now when I feed her, I mix in a bit of Solid Gold brand cat-formulated tuna, just enough to coat the kibble and make it smelly.

Of course, everyone wants her food now, except for Butler, who generally ignores the festivities.  So I placate OJ by putting the tuna-residue spoon by his food dish, so he can kill time licking it off while Chess eats.  Peter is more butt-in-y, but also less picky when it comes to food, so I've been putting some wet foods in his kibble that I took from the cat shelter where I volunteer; they were fru-fru donations that the cats there showed no interest in.  Currently, he's getting a spoonful of stuff from a packet of shredded chicken and pumpkin.  All this is by way of set-up for last night's conversation:

"Yes, Chess, you get food now.  With goo!... Yes OJ, you get food now, and a spoon!  Yes, Peter, guess what you get?  That's right: food!  Who would've thought?  Nobody expects the Spanish Inqui-chicken!"

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Violet Wilson

October 2016

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