Malcolm would like to thank everyone for his birthday wishes!
"....mmmffffmphhh...*snore* *snort*...mmmmm...pillows...soft...aahhhhh..."Besides receiving some toys, Party Mix treats, and a Furminator (ok, that's maybe not just for him), he also received another gift. A coupon for a 10lb, free bag of adult cat food. And not just any kind of cat food - the premium stuff! Worth $45 at the pet store! Must be some pretty awesome stuff! Because he'd been eating their kitten food, once he turned one, the coupon arrived in the mail. Hmmm...let's just call this stuff..."Gym Class Diet". Yeah.
Just because it's premium, doesn't mean it's tasty.
"Well, this sucks ass." I couldn't even disguise it. Even mixing it with something they liked didn't mask it for them. They wouldn't touch it. Mae ate the odd helping, but eventually peer pressure won over, and soon she was snubbing it too.
"Hello. And thank you for calling Gym Class Diet, makers of premium, high quality cat and dog food! Your call is important to us. Please hold."
"...what's up pussy cat, whoaohwhoawhoawhoa, what's up pussy cat, whoaohwhoawhoawhoawhoa..."
"Hello. And thank you for calling Gym Class Diet, makers of premium, high quality cat and dog food! Please state your name."
"Um, Malcolm."
"Hello UmMalcolm. How may I direct your call?"
"No, it's just Malcolm."
"I'm sorry, I did not get that. I heard: JustMalcolm. So, please tell me - how may I direct your call, JustMalcolm?"
"No Dummy! MALCOLM! MAL-COLM!!!"
"I heard: NoDummyMalcolm. If this is correct, press 1, followed by the pound key."
"Fine. *beep beep*."
"OK, NoDummyMalcolm. How can I help you? For example, please say "Spay & Neutering", or "Specialty Items" clearly so I may direct your call."
"...*sigh*...Well, see, for my first birthday you guys sent my Mom a coupon for a big bag of big kitty cat food which was really nice and all and my older brother Gandalf said I had to share it when I got it because they were big kitties and ate big kitty cat food so when Mom went to the store to pick it up and she brought it home I was all like cool! and stuff because I thought, wow, this is like puberty with 'nads and then she opened the bag and put some out for us and really it tastes awful I don't like it and Atticus and Mae and Gandalf don't like it either and who are the kitties you mention on the bag that love the taste that's false advertising..."
"OK. I think you said "Dog Food". If this is correct, press 2, followed by the pound key."
"What?!! No! Not "Dog Food"!! Are you even listening to me?? I said YOUR CAT FOOD TASTES LIKE BUTT."
"And then she just sent me to this department that was all about dog food and collars and Kongs. You know, I don't even think I was talking to a real person! I got nowhere. Guess we'll have to go to Plan B."
Plan B? Well, that consisted of whining non.stop. and trying to trip me any time I walked towards the kitchen.
And this lady?
"Yep, that would be me."
Scratching at my bedroom door. Every morning. Starting at around 3:30am. Give or take a few. And she wouldn't stop. Ever. Until I got up.
So, then I'd get up. Feed them the expensive, but free, food. And then it would start up all over again. The whining. The tripping.
The looks. Or non-looks, if you will.
"In case you haven't noticed, I'm ignoring you. However, please feel free to furminate me. I just won't acknowledge your presence. And if I purr, it has nothing to do with you. Because you disappoint me."
In the end, they won. They are back to eating their old, less expensive, probably less healthy, food.
"Aw yeah! 4 against 1! We beat you! We beat you! We wore you down and beat you!"
Happy cats = happy home. Who needs a husband.
And seriously? Knitting? Next week. Really.
