It’s A Yucky Job…

…but somebody has to do it.  Just not me.  Nope, nope, nope.  I am not lifting a finger. I am just going to narrate.

Now that the superannuated feline has to have twice daily insulin-stabbing sessions with the human female, it is critical that the useless beast eats on a regular schedule. Gone are the days when the humans could just sling some kibble into a bowl and call it good.

No, the feeding ritual now rivals a NASA pre-launch checklist for length and complexity.  There is still kibble, but now it is the fancy, expensive kind that the feline only sort of likes.  Now, since the feline’s kidneys are every bit as old as the rest of her, she has to have supplemental potassium sprinkled on her food.  The potassium has to special-ordered from a pharmacy in another state and shipped in at great expense.

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Note, if you will, the expiry date–October 19 of this year, by the Midgardian calendar.  It goes without saying that the jar is still half full.

The humans tried putting this powder on the kibble.  The feline, stubborn as Odin on a bad day, refused to eat it.  Waiting it out happened.  Pleading happened.  Cursing happened.  Then the humans caved and tried gooshy food.  Success!  The beast will deign to eat the expensive, prescription food.

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Bleargh.

I offered the animal a few pointers, and now she refuses the larger, slightly-less- expensive cans and will eat only this goop.  Look at it.  No, look at it!  I am no connoisseur of cat food, and I refuse to touch the loathsome stuff on principle, but even I can tell that there is rice in there, and carrots and something green.  You can’t tell me this sloppy chicken pilaf is anything like a normal carnivore diet.  But the feline likes it just fine.

Most days.  I didn’t have to teach her how to snub a meal.  That feature appears to have been original equipment.

So one-half of one-quarter teaspoon of potassium powder in the gooshy food and stir well.

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Yes, that is a petri dish.  Yes, the human female is a science nerd.  Oh, and since the feline is prone to acne, of all things, she needs a clean dish for every meal, especially since any uneaten gooshy food turns into something resembling smelly concrete.

Next, kitty gets some clean water.

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This bounteous repast goes down on a placemat because, let me tell you!–this beast makes Volstagg look like a prissy eater.

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When the offering is to her liking, she just hoovers it up.  (It probably isn’t really safe for me to be this close!) Today the human female didn’t even get the dish onto the mat before Little Miss McGreedy started wolfing.  Gobble, gobble, gobble, fling! By the end of this meal, there will be bits of  gooshy food everywhere and kibble scattered to the four corners of the realm.  And the noise! Smacking and nomming and gulping, and I think there is even some sneezing going on.  Cat, that would not happen if you did not inhale.

Of course, I have trained the animal very carefully, and her single-mindedness has been further refined.  Food is the target, and she has eyes only for the bull’s-eye.  If she comes back for seconds after the initial feeding frenzy is over and all the remaining food is around the edges of the dish, why then, the dish is EMPTY and there must be howling.

Lots and lots of howling.

So that’s how it goes, morning and evening, like furry clockwork.  It’s routine now, and no doubt my delight in the humans’ annoyance will pale with time, so I shall have to think about how to shake it up…  I know!  It is almost time to order another case of gooshy food.  Once the humans have it in hand, I think I will convince the feline to snub that flavor too..

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