This morning the cats proceeded to follow me around and sit and stare at me making those chirping noises again. This time I knew exactly what their problem was. You see, we ran out of their precious dry cat food, and last night, I gave them canned food mixed with the last shreds of the dry stuff. It was more than enough food and should have staved off starvation and hunger pains alike until I got to the store to buy some cheap dry kibble, to hold them over until we get to the feed store this weekend. But … once the wet food is gone, gobbled up in one sitting, there are empty bowls sitting there, and they do not like empty bowls. No, no, no. An empty bowl indicates to them that starvation will set in at any moment, no matter how full their tummies are.

So they were a little antsy about it last night when I went to bed, and this morning, they were completely out of their tiny walnut-sized brains about it. I decided to eat the leftover hominy from last night for breakfast, and as I sat at my computer trying to read the news and eat the damn corn, I was beset upon by cats who were acting as though they hadn’t eaten in days. I’m talking some really, really obnoxious in-my-bowl bad cat behavior.

I hadn’t exactly planned to rush right out to the store this morning. I want to take a shower, go through the kitchen and make a nice long shopping list, and watch some of my craft shows first. They were having none of that nonsense. Couldn’t I tell they were about to die?!?! So I pulled out a can of that over-priced venison prescription food that Fuzza used to eat and checked the expiration date. Still good. Well, good, the silly cats would just have to have canned food again, which they hate. If it isn’t dry and crunchy, it isn’t food, as far as they are concerned, no matter how much meat it has in it and how good it looks and smells.

They went bonkers when I opened the can, and they nearly killed themselves trying to get up on the work table while I was dishing it out onto plates. Even super-quiet Ronin was whining loudly. I carried the plates to the feeding area, scooted insane cats out of the way, and set the plates down in front of them.

They each took a sniff and looked up at me as though I had lost my mind. “You expect us to eat that?!” They toddled off a ways and started rolling around on the floor, presumably having seizures or perhaps attempting to simulate death throes. I picked each one up and set them down in front of a plate. Ronin, obviously the smarter of the two, decided to dig in and chow down. Myu, fell to the floor in the most pathetic display of spoiled and whiny cat behavior I have ever seen, and then she wandered off to parts unknown to pout when being as cute as possible did not produce a bowl of dry kibble.

I believe we have now verified that Myu does not like venison. Fuzza wasn’t especially fond of it either, which is why I still have half a case of it. Ronin, on the other hand, will apparently eat other foods, provided he believes he is about to die. But then, he always has been the chow hound in the house. They really are too picky about their food though. I am not even sure they will eat whatever cheap kibble I buy today either. If it isn’t Wellness Core, it isn’t food. I need to break them of this, because there may be times, like today, when there isn’t any Wellness Core to be had, and what happens if the feed store is out when we go tomorrow? What happens if there comes a time when we can’t afford their over-priced yet oh-so-healthy dry kibble? Yeah. They need to learn not to be so picky!

I remain convinced that cats who are picky about what to eat are spoiled beasts who have never actually known hunger. These cats have been fat, dumb, and happily fed since they popped out of the womb … first on mother’s milk from an equally fat, dumb, and happily fed cat and then nothing but pricey dry kibble since they were weaned. Now, they won’t eat anything else.

Meanwhile, Ronin has finished off his entire plate of food and is now trying to bury Myu’s plate, I suppose for later consumption. Well, she isn’t going to eat it, so he might as well have at it as he pleases. Myu is flopping around by my feet like a fish out of water and seriously using every cute gene she has. Oh I feel sorry for her, but nothing, not even the cutest cat on the planet, could compel me to go to the grocery before noon on a Friday. It’s just too insane. She’s either going to have to eat what’s there or suffer for a few more hours. Poor picky eater!