War of Nutrition

I love weekends. The human is home all the time, they're lazy, the sun is out, or it was this weekend, and they're just generally great. I haven't much to report, cuz there's only so much you can write about being lazy, right? Again, my human wants to paint a word picture of the laziest pose she caught me in over the weekend, so, human, here's your paragraph!

Tia is, by nature, a bit of a flop. By this I mean that when I find her, even if she's walking around on the floor, she'll immediately fall over on her side, and I do mean fall, as though she's feeling guilty for being caught in the act of actually doing something. I'd picked her up from one of these undignified flops and was cuddling her, as all good humans do. I sat down on the sofa, leaned back, and immediately, she stretched herself out along my body. Her back feet were braced against my left hip, her front paws, as usual, were up by her face, but her face was resting on my right shoulder. It's amazing how big they are when they stretch like this, but she was content to lie there for minutes on end, occasionally condescending to lift her head for a peremptory butt of my hand. I could have fallen asleep like that, but Tia had other ideas. The ping pong balls were calling.

Well of course they were, silly human. As for undignified, I am not, and that's all I'm saying on the matter. I fall over because I'm thinking of the human. I know she needs to stroke me for her own good, so I facilitate it. If I do it rather suddenly with such force that my body makes a soft whoomp when it hits the floor, sofa, table, bathmat that I happen to be on when she walks past, well, I'm just showing my enthusiasm.

I got one up on the human this weekend, though. I don't often gloat about my triumphs. Given that peoples are much more slow-witted than us, it's hardly a great win when we get one over on them. But this, friends, is. Why, I hear you ask? Because it has to do with food.

You remember the shameful, terrible chicken incident of last week, I trust. Well, the human, buoyed up by her success, attempted to be adventurous yesterday. She had bought some rabbit for me from the pet shop when she went with the other peoples to get food for all those poor, starving mummycats and kittens that me and Whicky have been talking about. Since I finished the chicken yesterday, she got the other stuff out to defrost and thought she'd try me with some. It came in a single, huge chunk. now I have to say, I did really enjoy licking the meat juice from the human's fingers when she set down the bowl, but the shame of the chicken was still fresh in my mind. I came, took one look, and walked the other way! Be proud of me here, please. It took a massive effort of will to turn away from such juicey, tender rabbit, but us cats have to stand up for our rights. It's all very well us taking on the responsibilities of owning a people, but they should reciprocate somehow, even if it is in a lesser fashion. They can cut meat, and do it well, so why shouldn't they? It's sad that we have to demand this, but there it was, and I demanded. I cried at her. I followed her into the kitchen and gave her my best, plaintive, tiny kitten stuck somewhere cold and dark and wet who is also hungry to the point of death, mew, but it didn't work! Am I losing my touch? It was a pretty good effort, I can tell you, but each time I did it, she only laughed.

I will win this battle, I promise you, even if she has left another big chunk down this morning. She's gone out to work, and it's only me and the meat here now. Oh, it smells so good, and I remember the taste of it on her fingers. If I just have a bite, nobody will know, right? Nobody can see me, after all. Just one bite...