What’s for dinner?

On the menu tonight is chicken in broth, with pumpkin and wild rice. 

Yesterday was mixed seafood in broth, with peas and wild rice.

For tomorrow, salmon and chicken, with carrots and wild rice.

Sounds good he.  Is that what I’m eating?  No, the cats.  I recently switched them from regular cat food to holistic food and they love it.

All except Chanel.  Chanel still prefers Fancy Feast above all. 

Speaking of dinner, I think Mickey has an alarm clock in his stomach.  One moment he will be sleeping peacefully, but when 6:45 p.m. comes around he wakes up to find me.  Dinner time!

While I scoop the food out of the containers, he’s either on the floor waiting patiently, sits on the table anxious for the plate to appear, or with me on the kitchen counter keeping an eye on things.

Once the plate is on the cat table, he’s the first one there and starts munching. 

Charlotte occasionally makes an appearance, but more of than not, I have to go and find her.  “Charlotte, foodie time!” 
She will come and either jump on the cat table, or wait for me to pick her up.

As for Gabriel, I have to wake him up, or pick him up.  Occasionally he will jump on the cat table, but most of the time he will fail miserably.  He will sit on the floor, calculating his jump … one… two … three … no. 
A little later he will try again … I think I can, I think I can … no. 
Maybe third time lucky … I think I can I can … I think I can … I’m kidding myself.

That’s when I pick him up and just put him on the cat table.  Remember the movie “White men can’t jump”?  Well, apparently neither can some cats.

This attempting to jump reminds me of a scene of the TV series “227”, where Mary said “Conceive it, believe it, achieve it” and Lester replied “Can’t get it, regret it, forget it”.  That line was written for Gabriel.

And Chanel you might wonder.  Chanel eats alone, on top of the fridge.  With a bully like Gabriel around I have to feed her separately.

While the cat family is eating, all has to stay dead quiet in the kitchen.  The slightest noise and Charlotte and Gabriel will go running. 

And Mickey … no not Mickey, WWIII can start for all he cares, he’s not moving. 
 

I can just picture that cat during WWII … “Mickey, came down to the shelter, bombs are falling!”
“Yeah, yeah, I’ll be there in a minute.”

Okay, it's past 7:00 p.m. … time for dinner.

Brutus the Rat Catcher

Today's guest blog post comes from Amanda Dcosta.  Amanda writes informative articles for www.helium.com and from time to time dabbles in creative writing.  The following is a poem inspired by lazy kittycat who turned out to be quite useful.  To see more of Amanda's work, please visit http://www.helium.com/users/491999/show_articles

Brutus / Uterus: Make Up Your Mind!

Here is a tale of a cat from home

Who never bothered when any one called

The name that he was given.

Or was it he tried to tell us his preference?

His name was Uterus. No, Brutus, in fact.

The house maid could never pronounce it right

We never corrected nor told her his name

After we heard her again and again.

Poor Brutus, or Uterus, I wonder if he knew 

that his name was a tongue twister, for she

Spoke a different tongue, and it 'mused us so

We'd laugh and laugh our guts right out.

Brutus was a lazy cat

Who'd sit around doing nothing but

Eat and sleep and sleep and eat

The dogs eyed him as real treat.

Every dog has its day, it's said

But what if it's Brutus, then what of that?

He got his chance to clear his name

Would he jump to it or consider it insane?

The cabinet shut, was all a mess

The food inside was contaminated

A rat had made its way inside

And found a lovely place to hide.

The plastic jars were chewed into

The biscuit packs were eaten through

The baby food was a disaster to see

The shelf was just so darn oily.

We didn't know how to deal with that

Did we need a rat trap or a glue pad?

To have Brutus catch it, was never thought of

Coz he just never moved whenever we'd want.

Brutus sat as if he was deaf

We called out Brutus! , but he paid no heed

Then to the rescue she came and said

Oh Uterus, Uterus, and he lifted his head.

With one swift move he jumped into

The cabinet we opened for him

Just wide enough to let him through

And before we knew it, he was out again.

We jumped around, to view him better

Brutus was finally a rat catcher.

He won his game, between his teeth

Our Uterus, that day, achieved his feat.

And then it struck me plain and clear

Of Brutus he was never sure,

But Uterus he loved to be

And that's what his name would finally be.

Mickey and whipped cream

Are you familiar with Gay Lea whipped cream? Mickey LOOOOOOOOVES whipped cream, absolutely adores it.

A couple of nights a week, the humans in this house have ice cream after dinner. Clever cat that he is, as soon as he hears the freezer opening and sees the serving bowls appearing, he knows what’s up ... they’re having ice cream. And ice cream and whipped cream go hand in hand. So he positions himself in the kitchen and waits.

He never has to wait long. As soon as the serving bowls are filled with ice cream and fruit, mom puts some whipped cream on her bowl and he's getting a plate with his portion. Judging by the look on his face it's his piece of heaven.

What’s more, Charlie, Charlotte, Gabriel nor myself fancy whipped cream, so he has the whole plate to himself. By the time he's through with it, the plate is so clean, you can’t even tell there was something on it. And then he sits there licking his lips, over and over and over again. Some say that all that cream will go to his hips, but I don't think he's got anything to worry about. He looks pretty lean to me.

We all have our own little preferences.

Charlie likes Twinkies. When the humans have coffee, and they have Twinkies, he makes sure he’s there to get his share.

Charlotte likes treats. Actually, the word ‘likes’ is a bit of an understatement, she LOVES treats. Wherever she is, whatever she’s doing, when she hears the rattling of the treats bag, she goes storming for the kitchen. Literally, that girl would go over corpses.

Gabriel and I ... I don’t think we have a preference for anything. I’ve never seen him getting excited over food and neither have I. Now a fake mouse, that’s another thing, but that’s a subject for tomorrow.

Got to go. It's almost midnight and way past my bedtime. Catch you all tomorrow.