Athena T. Cat is not happy. In fact, she is currently stretched out on the floor, feet in the air, in the process of dying of hunger despite having just eaten breakfast, as well as having had her bit of milk in her bowl, and the last drops of milk from my bowl. She is . . . the World’s Fluffiest Starving-to-Death Housecat.
Now, lest you feel a pico-liter of sympathy for the calico currently in her twice-daily death agonies, be aware that she eats better than her owner does. Excuse me, not owner, chief feeder and lap provider, litterbox cleaner, and mess-remover. She gets a special, not inexpensive, super-high-protein grain-free kibble made from chicken and rabbit. I’m a member of the legume-of-the-month club, having aged out of the ramen-of-the-month club. She also gets tooth-cleaning treats in the evenings. Athena tried the chewy treats, with rather distressing results. At least, distressing to the carpet-cleaner-in-chief.
I’m convinced that Athena has a pocket watch hidden under her hair coat. 90 minutes before feeding time, she comes marching into my office. “Mow.”
“Mow.” She moves closer, sitting and watching me. “Mow.”
“It’s 90 minutes. You are still early.” Type type type.
She moves closer until she is sitting on my foot. “Mow.”
“Shoo.” If I stop typing, she bolts off to the room with her food dish. Then she comes back and gives me a dirty look. Ditto if I get up for a drink or to get rid of drinks. By fifteen minutes before food, she’s in constant motion, absolutely convinced that she is about to diiiiiiIIIIEEEEEEEE of starvation before 1700. My friend JY can tell you. He’s heard her cries of famishment over the phone. Which is pretty good, since she’s not a Siamese.
Recently, I notice that the A/C thermostat has been set lower, and when I wake up my laptop, there are catnip websites and gourmet fish places on the browsing history. I wonder if I should be getting worried about something like this:
I suspect Athena and Misti (my Manx) went to the same drama school. Misti will knock things off my nightstand to get my attention. If I am at the main computer, she jumps into my lap then proceeds to walk across the desk to sit on the mouse. All of this in a effort to get me to put down food and/or water. Some times I think it is just to see if she can get me up. -sigh-
You can’t tell me that cats are not intelligent. 😉
As the vet said about Mom’s last cat, Gigancat, “They’re only as smart as the have to be,” implying that if they can be lazy, they will. Gigancat, left overnight to roam while being boarded at the vet’s, had gotten up on a counter, pawed open a drawer, pulled out the remains of a sack of catfood, and dragged it back to his cage. The vet was impressed.
-laugh- Someone needs to remind that vet that “intelligence” and “energetic industry” are not synonymous. I’ve know plenty of ‘lazy’ cats that were extremely intelligent and some that were borderline hyper and about as bright as a Christmas flicker bulb. -grin-
My cats likewise have an incredible ability to tell what time it is since they get fed at 0600 and 1800. Or if they don’t, they let you know about it. For the mornings, it’s better than an alarm clock since they get worried if I’m not up by 0530, and let me (and everyone else) know about it.
My dogs are similar, they are outside dogs, but if the door opens within an hour of their feeding time you would think a bear just walked into the yard, from the racket. And this time of year when it is hot out, and I’ve decided it is to hot for them to eat (unhealthy to gorge yourself in the heat, I know of at least two guys who lost dogs to turned stomachs by feeding them after exercise in hot weather) and wait until later in the evening to feed them after it cools down… well, lets just say they aren’t happy, and are more than willing to let me know about it.