Sara Pascoe's Blog: Just the Facts, Ma'am - Posts Tagged "cats"
Nice Kitty
I propose we start Cat Food Swaps. These could happen in supermarket car parks where all of us cat owners (servants) who bought the box of twelve sachets of cat food, but know our little furry darling hates at least one of these flavours, well, we could swap. I often find other cat owners staring and heaving great sighs as they read the list of flavours on boxes that promise to be cheaper than buying the individual tins or sachets.
“Turkey, beef, lamb, and salmon…Oh no, not salmon!” And over here in the UK, sometimes the list of flavours goes like this: “Duck, game (you mean I can buy pheasant for my cat?), lamb, and rabbit. But he hates rabbit!”
Ah, you non-cat familiar humans are rolling your eyes at yet another precious, indulgent rant about cats. But it’s true. If they are not starving strays, and they tasted something else they preferred, even just once, they will go on hunger strike when you serve up the wrong dish, while looking at you with large, soulful eyes. Mine also follows me around the house meowing and batting me around the ankles as if to herd me back into the kitchen where obviously, I could reach to the large stash of his favourite flavour that I was just too mean to serve up the first time. But usually he only succeeds in tripping me, with coffee cup flying, and my landing prone with a mouthful of carpet.
Nice kitty.
“Turkey, beef, lamb, and salmon…Oh no, not salmon!” And over here in the UK, sometimes the list of flavours goes like this: “Duck, game (you mean I can buy pheasant for my cat?), lamb, and rabbit. But he hates rabbit!”
Ah, you non-cat familiar humans are rolling your eyes at yet another precious, indulgent rant about cats. But it’s true. If they are not starving strays, and they tasted something else they preferred, even just once, they will go on hunger strike when you serve up the wrong dish, while looking at you with large, soulful eyes. Mine also follows me around the house meowing and batting me around the ankles as if to herd me back into the kitchen where obviously, I could reach to the large stash of his favourite flavour that I was just too mean to serve up the first time. But usually he only succeeds in tripping me, with coffee cup flying, and my landing prone with a mouthful of carpet.
Nice kitty.
Just the Facts, Ma'am
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