Dinnertime With The Boys

Well…they aren’t supposed to be eating with us but…they definitely try.

My hunnie is a phenomenally good sport (especially as he wasn’t necessarily a “cat guy” from the outset) – there are rather a lot of crazy feline antics taking place…on a regular basis.  No, he takes it in stride, and is absolutely wonderful with them!

But much that we love them, we do have to draw the line with the kitchen and the dinner table.  There’s that image of a Jack-In-The-Box… You know the one…where the head pops up (terrifyingly in some cases, thankyouverymuch!)?  

Once the ears pass the table’s horizon…it’s game on.

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I have a “GET DOWN!” tone that goes along with the words – it’s generally enough to send them on their way.  But sometimes those sweet little faces, jutting out and up, sniffing at the poultry-ed air…they’re followed with a paw.

Just one…ever so carefully reaching for the table.  

(Risky move!) 


Sometimes I’m not even in the room and I’ll hear “OoOoo…you better get down!  If she catches you you’re in BIG TROUBLE!” 

I have to laugh because it basically our own live comedy show…and that part about being in big trouble is totally true!  I’ll march in, clearly going for “undefeated,” and they bolt before the “GET DOWN!” is fully expelled.  

If the boys get distracted (after a lengthy exercise in futility, they often reach a point of “we aren’t going to get the chicken THIS time…”) they might launch into a play paw fight.  Mittens and mews everywhere!

It is terribly entertaining.  Particularly when you have a few cat trees.  (They plan high-ground strategies too, you know!  Smart little devils!)


I realize not everyone wants pets, in part because they want certain freedoms.  For me, the dinnertime mews start at LEAST one hour before I head for the cat food.  I get nose bites and ear batting starting around 4am…  But I’d feel a void without them, and I felt one between these lovie rescues and my jungle babies…  It just wasn’t “home.”

So dinnertime can have a few stresses with animals around – gone (so we thought!?) were the days of guarding ones food?  Not so in our house!  

But other than that piece of roasted cauliflower they absconded with the other night…it isn’t all THAT bad. 


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