Feed me NOW!

I wouldn’t say I’d had a bad day, but for some reason my juggling is a bit dodgy today . My husband is in London so I’m Carer Numero Uno, which is fine, I can do that. I am also chief confidante to my teenage son, in charge of the housework, cooking, making sure the doors are locked, heating is working, dishwasher filled/emptied and somewhere in there trying to get on top of finding the Christmas card list and squeeze a bit of time into working on my next essay.

Arriving home tonight I knew I had to get right on with things – cups of tea made, listening to the breakdown of of the school day, discussion about school dance and what to wear were handled as I rummaged about in the fridge trying to fling together something palatable for dinner.

My mother-in-law Sylvia and my son Spencer fit right into my routine and although things move along somewhat frantically (due to the fact that I also had to deal with some phone calls) we’re generally right on schedule. There are however two members of our household who are just not ‘getting’ the program. That would be our two cats…..

"Grumpy Tam"

AND

"Airy Fairy Bella"

Granted they are somewhat hacked off that it’s me they have to deal with. My husband is much more, how can I put it, responsive to their demands needs. Me on the other hand will explain to them, as I whizz about the kitchen like a crazy person, that I just need to do a couple of things first before I get to emptying their revolting smelling  nourishing cat food into their bowls.  For some reason my rational tone does nothing to  appease the situation, which by this stage has escalated to them rounding on me like a pack of crazed hungry animals.  Gone are the cute gazes and the affectionate purring.  They mean business.

Airy Fairy Bella has by this stage jumped up and is sitting beside the sink – the intention is that she has me in her line of vision and can do that crazy cat stare into my eyes.  As I get on with the cooking I can feel her eyes burning into my back.  It’s about this time that we move up to another zone.  They start with the noise.  You know that cat noise that says loud and clear, “IF YOU THINK YOU’RE GOING TO IGNORE ME YOU’VE GOT ANOTHER THINK COMING – FEED ME!!!!!”

Of course at this point any sane person would just give in and feed them.  By this stage of course I am not sane.  I’ve got a husband due home tonight, a zillion things to do and a son to get to his piano lesson.  I explain this to my two furry stalkers to no avail.

If you're not going to co-operate we're just going to have to take this into our own hands

Realising how ridiculous this all is I of course give in to the torture and feed them.  In an instant the food is finished and they wander off to their respective beds, either to get away from the crazy person in the kitchen or because their antics have zapped all their energy.

Left alone in the kitchen I wonder whether this owner/cat relationship is really equal.  For a while there I even thought I was in charge.