I enjoyed the comic strip LIO this morning as it showed how cats work at getting fed. Our Bubba let us know how she really didn’t like the new brand of dry cat food we purchased this past week. She simply refused to eat it; instead, she sat on the counter screaming a repetitive denunciation of what had been left in her dish. “You expect me to eat this garbage?” set to a heavy metal rap beat.
We’ve cut down on her canned cat food; every third day we spoil her with that treat, something which had already caused a mild rebuke. Once Bubba figured out we were not going to open a can of the fancy stuff she resigned herself to eating the dry stuff. “This new stuff though; really!”
After about fifteen minutes of ever louder complaints regarding the quality and possible origin of the unknown substance, a substitute for anything marginally resembling edible cat food; Lucy poured some of the other dry cat food in her dish. The scene, I’m certain, resembled that of Mia Farrow ending her hunger strike for the down trodden in Darfur except Bubba could give a rat’s patootie about human abuse, government corruption or any other political agenda; just as long as the food meets with her approval.
Here’s my advice, get a dog. Dogs will eat anything except lettuce, broccoli and tomatoes. Okay, so they leave a pile on the carpet from time to time; cats cough up hair balls which are just as disgusting. A dog will thank you with tail wagging excitedly as you pour out a measure of food each day; never once complaining that you bought the cheap stuff.
We’ve cut down on her canned cat food; every third day we spoil her with that treat, something which had already caused a mild rebuke. Once Bubba figured out we were not going to open a can of the fancy stuff she resigned herself to eating the dry stuff. “This new stuff though; really!”
After about fifteen minutes of ever louder complaints regarding the quality and possible origin of the unknown substance, a substitute for anything marginally resembling edible cat food; Lucy poured some of the other dry cat food in her dish. The scene, I’m certain, resembled that of Mia Farrow ending her hunger strike for the down trodden in Darfur except Bubba could give a rat’s patootie about human abuse, government corruption or any other political agenda; just as long as the food meets with her approval.
Here’s my advice, get a dog. Dogs will eat anything except lettuce, broccoli and tomatoes. Okay, so they leave a pile on the carpet from time to time; cats cough up hair balls which are just as disgusting. A dog will thank you with tail wagging excitedly as you pour out a measure of food each day; never once complaining that you bought the cheap stuff.
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