Nancy Barber (nlbarber) wrote,
Nancy Barber

Not what he thought it was...

My supper tonight: leftover grilled turkey breast from last weekend. Leftover limas. Freshly cooked seared brussels sprouts.

The venue: my usual seat at the table-height breakfast counter, looking out at the front yard.

Hopeful dinner companion: Fish, a great lover of turkey.

I offered him a few tidbits of turkey which he accepted with alacrity. He then kept reminding me that he was there, in case I was moved to offer more--he does this by stretching up to put his paws on my leg, or trying a mini-claw-sharpening on my pants, or head-butting my shins. No talking, though--he's a quite silent cat, and leaves the vocalizing to Fred who more than makes up for his silence. I ignored all the additional promptings for food, being absorbed in the newspaper.

That is, until he did the paw-on-leg thing, and then I heard a SPLAT. Looked down, and Fish was investigating the brussels sprout half that he had neatly raked off the edge of the plate onto the floor. Unlucky Fish--the turkey was on the far side of the plate.

This "hook it out of the dish" is the same move he uses to try to steal food from Fred's bowl when I'm watching. (When I'm not watching, he just pushes her out of the way.) He sits a little away from the bowl, then sneaks out a long white paw and quickly rakes a piece or two of the dry food out onto the counter. He feels that once the food is on the counter, it's fair game.
Tags: cats, fish

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