When we are having chicken or turkey, we often have a cat stampede:
This is, of course, our fault because we trained everyone to expect treats.
These free-for-alls would be fine except that some of the cats, mainly Possum and Wendy, tend to be "bitey," nipping us as they snatch the food from our fingers before anyone else can get to it. Harris and Lion are gentlemen and never bite. Toffee can't help himself sometimes.
We can toss the treats to save our fingers, but that means Harris and Possum will get all of it. Possum will move surprisingly fast for food considering how lazy he is the rest of the time. The others, especially Lion, are too polite and let him grab what's supposed to be theirs.
Wendy always acts to startled that I'm tossing her a treat that while she's still staring at me in [feigned] disbelief, Harris or Possum has gobbled it all up under her nose. Her imaginary melodrama is costing her calories; you'd think she'd get over it after so many years and lost bits of birdie.
Possum has begun hollering at me in the mid morning, demanding "second breakfast" for himself, which means everyone gets freeze-dried hare, chicken breast, wild boar, or whatever I've got from the pet store. Possy is the only cat who needs to watch his waistline, so I don't mind treat time being a daily, or twice-daily routine. Harris and Lion are very lean, so I feed them extra bits of cheese when I'm having some. And even Possum does not seem to be as rotund as he appears in his "belly" photos. He is 15.3 pounds, down from an all-time high of 17.5, which was porky. He'd look very trim if he lost about a pound but our vet doesn't think it's that necessary. When he stretches out to his full length — standing on his hind legs to swat at me and to put his paws on the counter to monitor my treat-producing progress, he is a very long "tall" cat.
Even so, Possum doesn't get quite as many treats as the others do . . . but he doesn't know that.