Caturday ~ choice of food

When Diane of Animal House delivered Clawdia to me on Thursday, she brought a bag of chicken and turkey flavored dry cat food.  Clawdia didn't want it, even though it's what she had been fed since the end of May.  In the first 24 hours with me, she ate very little of it, perhaps two or three hard morsels at a time.  I kept getting the feeling she was trying to tell me she likes tuna. Since she wasn't eating, I went out yesterday and bought a couple of cans of soft paté.  Last night, she got very excited to hear me "pop" the can of Ocean Whitefish and Tuna Dinner.  She ate the first spoonful by grabbing that sucker out of the dish so she could eat it on the ground like a "real" cat.  (See photographic "proof" of her kill above.)

When she begged for more, I gave her a second spoonful of the paté, which she also gobbled quickly.  Yes, she really did want fish, as I had "understood" her to tell me.  She then sat on the table grooming herself and acting pleased that she has — finally! — gotten through.  A human "got it" and provided her with something edible, specifically something fishy!  When she asked for more again, I said, "No, that's enough for now."  She had eaten about a fourth of the can, every possible smidgen of the wet food, leaving nothing for later.  She was happy and full of food.  Maybe she would weigh more than her current 6-pounds-and-1-ounce if she could eat what she wants.  Maybe that missing canine tooth is an indication that she has trouble eating the hard dry food and wants soft food.  Maybe she'll also like the Liver and Chicken Dinner in the second can I brought home for her.

We went to bed and I, at least, slept soundly until 5:00 a.m. when a furry little body kept bonking me in the head and meowing at me to feed her, feed her!  I got up and did her bidding.  She had by then eaten nearly a half can of the paté.  Here it is just after noon, and there's a quarter of a can left of her food.  She hasn't finished off all of her breakfast, but she's full enough and napping on the chair pushed under the dining table — which effectively hides her from any danger she has not yet found in our apartment.  She's comfy on her cushion and close enough to keep an eye on me as I sit at my desk typing this.  What more could a fur-girl want?