Let Them Eat Cake

Over the next few days, Trinket dines regularly on pork chops scraps. But I really can not envision cooking pork chops for this little kitty every day. But Her Royal Fussiness has clearly turned up her tiny pink nose at the $32, 20 lb bag of highly nutritious cat food I’d gotten.

The mondo bag of chow is going to Scott’s where his unfussy cat Snickers will surely eat it. I keep a gallon pitcher of the chow for Trinket, in the event that I am negligent in getting to the store some day and it is a choice between the chow and starvation. I am hoping Miss Meowypants will choose wisely.

Never one to give up altogether, I continue to try to tempt her with the canned food. I even take the advice of some online pet expert and heat it up a little so it smells stronger (really???) but she is sooooo not having any of that.

I offer her a can of MY tuna. No go.

I cook her a scrambled egg like my mother would have. No thanks.

We’ll have to try something entirely new. So Scott and I make a trip to the grocery store.

The pet aisle at Superfresh is daunting. And completely unfamiliar territory. I do eventually figure out that cat stuff is on the left and dog stuff in on the right. Good distinction to make.

I am looking for what my Dad used to give our cat, day in and day out, without variation. It was called Tender Vittles, and it came in a box filled with little foil lined pouches that contained what I’d describe as semi-dry morsels of very smelly food stuffs that would appeal only to cats (or maybe the otherwise starving person confined to his house for a long period of time that exceeds the shelf life of any people food that may remain there)

There is no such thing.

I am tempted again by the high-priced nutritionally engineered varieties.

Scott has better plans.

He grabs one box each of three flavors of Friskies with names like “Surf and Turf-full” and “Seafood Sensation.” Do cats read now?

Since I am convinced that Trinket has preferences for table food, as witnessed by the reaction to pork chops, I am sure I should not leave it at just Friskies.

I reach for a variety pack of envelopes filled with different meats of known kitty- appeal and described as having their own “gravy.” I am imagining how putrid the smell.

We go home and I am anxious to see Trinket’s reaction.

I pour some Friskies into a freshly washed bowl.

Nothing.

I open a pouch of Tuna-something with gravy. I swoon from the smell but squeeze the contents onto a little china dish, and of course get some on my hand.

Trinket wants to see about my hand before committing to the dish. She takes a quick lick or two. Stares at me. I (gasp!) pick up a chunk of the mush and hold out my hand like I had with the chops.

She licks at it and meows. But it is not a happy meow. She is hungry but not at all interested in this stuff either.

I am beginning to think that she’d actually choose starvation.