26 April 2006
Hah! No wonder Himself seemed curiously unhungry when I came home yesterday. I knew I'd be gone twenty-four hours, so I left him with twenty-four hours' worth of food, which I was confident that he'd eat in an hour and so be desperate by the time I made it back. But he was so very much not desperate, although it had been closer to a day and a half - quite content to eat when I fed him, but actually more interested in huggling and playing and really just following me around - that I did wonder if he was maybe feeling ill.
Not a bit of it. He'd found not one but both of the sacks of spare food I'd laid in, and chewed his way into both of them, and eaten God alone knows how much in my absence. He is now back on a scrupulous diet - except for any nuggets that I've spilled during the clear-up, or that he's secreted away against a future need; I now put nothing past him - but that hasn't begun to bite yet, obviously, and he hasn't lost his air of utter smugness. By tomorrow, hopefully, he'll be back to the lean and hungry look, racing to his bowl every time I go near the kitchen, gazing at me in appalled disbelief every time I don't fill it. Let me have about me cats that are not fat, I say; if he's that hungry, let him eat mice. Or one mouse, anyway, just the one would be good...
© Chaz Brenchley 2006
Reproduced here by permission of Chaz Brenchley, who asserts his moral right to be identified as the author of this work.