Our vet is worried because Bertie is too thin and has no appetite, so we're trying everything we can think of to get him eating. A significant portion of our kitchen counter is Snalbert's pharmacy these days. We're still syringe-feeding him, which is not a long-term solution. Fortunately, he's a weird cat and he enjoys it. We're also sprinkling smelly treats on top of nicely warmed bowls of wet food to enhance its flavor and entice him to eat by himself. I crush his favorite Whisker Lickin's treats into "Magic Pixie Dust," but he's expert at eating that while leaving the food below untouched. The same thing happens with disgusting dried fish pieces.
Meanwhile, Wendy and Possum are beside themselves because they long to eat his wonderful, warm, smelly food and it is forbidden; they're too fat.
So, when I heard Snalbert howling, I expected the worst. Pain, a blockage, a crash. But I had underestimated him. He was simply deploying his Snalbert Early-Warning Pancake Alert System (S.E.W.P.A.S.) on full blast. Bertie knows when my husband is merely contemplating the concept of pancakes. And, lo, he was actually making them, for the first time this year.
Besides being a cheese connoisseur, Snalbert is a carbohydrate fiend. He was already on the table, demanding his share:
Snalbert awaits his pancakes. Note that Possum left a mouse on the table.
If you consider this sort of thing unhygienic, that's because it is.
But we don't care.
He knows I'm watching, so he can't snatch a pancake.
After getting nice, syrup-soaked pancake bits in his bowl,
He dropped them on the table before enjoying them.
It's hard to worry about a cat who's chowing down pancakes.