I regularly ask Charlie where he goes on his daily or nightly walks but he never tells me. Not once have I found out what he does when my back is turned. I don’t even know if he has any friends. When he moved in, just over a year ago, there was a stream of cat visitors to the garden, cats of all description and one look-alike, but they all seem to have disappeared – at least from my view.
Mealtimes are difficult. I present him with a dish of food which sometimes he scoffs straight away and other times he turns up his nose. It’s the same food, for God’s sake. So, why does he like it one day and not the next? At first, when he was new to me, I pandered to his whims, now I’m not so soft. My new policy is that if he is hungry he will eat it but that doesn’t stop me worrying or cursing the cost of wasted food.
One thing I have worked out is that he is brand fussy. I tried cheaper food but he just turned away when I put that down, almost as if he was insulted to be given cheap stuff. I can almost visualise him saying ‘Hey, Mom, will you please note that only the best is good enough for me’. Another thing I had to work out was that he is a fish lover and only eats
meat or poultry on rare occasions. Once I got that into my
thick head I saved a fortune.
Somebody told me that a cat must eat meat which immediately rang alarm bells until I worked out that fish is food and probably has as many if not more vitamins as meat. But, you know what (I hate the overuse of that expression but it’s the first time I’ve used it), he loves boiled or roast ham, the sort I have for my tea. He will sit like a dog waiting for titbits which, of course, I give him on the basis that he looks so endearing when he pleads for a taste of my food.
Why can’t cats have routines like we do? It would make my life so much easier. Cats, huh? You’ve gotta love ‘em whether or no.