Why is it that a cat can always hear the sound of a can being opened?
And mind you, it doesn’t have to actually be a can being opened, it just has to sound like one. First the sound, then the thunder of eight feet running at top speed, plowing into anything stupid enough to get in the way.
Like my legs.
Now, this might even be worthy of a chortle or two if it wasn’t for the size of the felines in question. If they were nice, normal sized cats, say 5 or 7 pounds each, I might find the crash bang boom into my legs cute. But when 15+ pounds of hunger crazed kitty is coming at you from the north and from the south at exactly the same moment… All you can do is hope they hit each other before they hit you.
No such luck.
Hopping gingerly from foot to foot as I untangle myself from the now yowling mass of furry quadrupeds, I fill the food bowls. Plop. Plop. Two cylindrical shapes fill the once empty bowls, and the kitchen goes quiet. All yowling ceases as a pair of green eyes and a pair of amber eyes follow the descent of the bowls from counter to floor. The meowing starts, one voice soft and feminine, the other with a hard masculine edge. They watch, mesmerized, as they lift their voices in prayer or song to the almighty food bowls. The sacred bowls touch down to earth with two ceramic clanks.
And then the feeding frenzy begins.
Today’s menu is some sort of salmon concoction that my daughter says smells good. First, I look at her strangely, because there is no way that stuff smells good. Then, I watch, spellbound, as she hunkers down to watch the fur ball duo eat. She’s getting way too close to Neo’s bowl as she continues to say that that salmon surprise smells good.
Will today be the day her 7 year old brain convinces her that her furry friends won’t mind if she samples their dinner?
I hold my breath because I’m honestly not sure what she plans to do. Finally, she backs off, perhaps because Neo is now eyeing her suspiciously. Able to breathe again, I step over both cats, who are now switching bowls and digging in. This puzzles me because I always make sure both bowls contain the same meal. Perhaps the food tastes different if it comes from a different bowl?
Cats. Go figure.
Shaking my head, I leave the kitchen and sit at my dinner table for my own meal. I have done my duty to the savage beasts that share my apartment. I have made food appear for another meal.