I try...
I try to be a good cat-mom, I really do. It would seem by the howling of my thouroughly p***ed off cat that I am failing miserably. Yesterday, we ran out of food. Us, being a car-free household, and bags of cat food and litter being heavy, you plan ahead a bit when said items are required. So this morning, I booked a car a) to take Sierra back to the shelter (sad) and b) to pick up heavy items for my pampered cat like a good cat-mom (nice).
After a bit of waiting with the shaking little Sierra at the shelter to calm her and fill out the info form to give her new family info about her, I was running a bit short on time. I stop at Loeb to get Coal's stuff. (He has been howling all day because the spoonful of soft food that was all that was left this morning wasn't exactly sufficient for his "healthy" frame.) At Loeb they don't have his usual brand (Iams). So me, being short on time and thinking I'd get him a treat, pick out the yummiest looking "Whiskas Meaty Selections." The picture on the front is positively mouth watering, and boasts "with crunchy meaty pockets" chicken and turkey - how good does that sound!?! The kitty on the front looks rather satiated and quite appreciative, I must say. Each piece is a different little color, presumably representing the melody of yummy flavours waiting within.
So I get home and open the bag to feed the animal, and the aroma that wafts out is slightly less naueating than your usual catfood smell. I am feeling well pleased with myself, and looking forward to the moment when he comes dancing into the kitchen like the grateful kitty in the comercial, singing some sort of sweet little kitty ditty in gratitude. Well, not so with my wretched little beast. He proceeds to sniff the bowl, and then follow me around the house howling in protest that I have not filled it with his filthy mundane usual fare, with its small uniform brown pellets and same-same clatter as he disdainfully pushes it out of the dish onto the floor.
Ya. I know. The nerve.
Edit: Eventually after making sure that I knew this wasn't his usual fare, he ate the Whiskas heartily. Thankfully he is not a picky cat, due to many late night convenience store runs by cat-mom and cat-dad and being forced to eat whatever they forage. So I forgive him. He's just so darn sweet... nuzzle nuzzle...
Edit: The howling has recommenced, the bowl is half empty at supper time. Hm.
After a bit of waiting with the shaking little Sierra at the shelter to calm her and fill out the info form to give her new family info about her, I was running a bit short on time. I stop at Loeb to get Coal's stuff. (He has been howling all day because the spoonful of soft food that was all that was left this morning wasn't exactly sufficient for his "healthy" frame.) At Loeb they don't have his usual brand (Iams). So me, being short on time and thinking I'd get him a treat, pick out the yummiest looking "Whiskas Meaty Selections." The picture on the front is positively mouth watering, and boasts "with crunchy meaty pockets" chicken and turkey - how good does that sound!?! The kitty on the front looks rather satiated and quite appreciative, I must say. Each piece is a different little color, presumably representing the melody of yummy flavours waiting within.
So I get home and open the bag to feed the animal, and the aroma that wafts out is slightly less naueating than your usual catfood smell. I am feeling well pleased with myself, and looking forward to the moment when he comes dancing into the kitchen like the grateful kitty in the comercial, singing some sort of sweet little kitty ditty in gratitude. Well, not so with my wretched little beast. He proceeds to sniff the bowl, and then follow me around the house howling in protest that I have not filled it with his filthy mundane usual fare, with its small uniform brown pellets and same-same clatter as he disdainfully pushes it out of the dish onto the floor.
Ya. I know. The nerve.
Edit: Eventually after making sure that I knew this wasn't his usual fare, he ate the Whiskas heartily. Thankfully he is not a picky cat, due to many late night convenience store runs by cat-mom and cat-dad and being forced to eat whatever they forage. So I forgive him. He's just so darn sweet... nuzzle nuzzle...
Edit: The howling has recommenced, the bowl is half empty at supper time. Hm.
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home