Did you ever know a picky eater? Elaine is such a cat. Despite the fact that she will eat dead birds and mice, there are flavors of cat food she won't touch. Anyway, on top of that, lately she’s been having tummy troubles, and like the good pet owner that I am, I’ve tried to narrow down the causes. (I’ve gotten nowhere on trying to do so; this post doesn’t go in that direction.)
Then I wondered if the problem might be her medication, if that was upsetting her stomach. Last night, in a definitive test, I put her medicine in a bowl and set it in front of her. She looked at me rather mournfully and did not approach the bowl. I set down a second bowl, also Salmon Feast but without the medicine. She chowed down.
Ah, I thought, this is it. Unfortunately, if she can’t take her medicine, she will die. I sat down to my cup of decaf to ruminate over that. When I took my cup back into the kitchen, Elaine had abandoned the non-medicated bowl and was scarfing up the medicated bowl. Okay, so not the medicine.
Then I thought about how much I am like a cat. I mean, I want to try all the dishes on the menu before I choose one. Restaurants aren’t so much run like this. Fortunately for me, I have a husband who likes everything and is always willing to trade dishes with me if my order turns out to be less than anticipated. I want all the pretty clothes and be able to decide each day who I want to be. I want the practical station wagon as well as the little smart car.
I want it all. Just like a cat.