I like to tease Ron about eating the cats, now and then. We always soberly discuss the fact that Bubba, being old and "stringy", would require a good marinade, while Baby Girl, being much younger, is likely far more tender.
Baby Girl, sitting on the couch behind me, doesn't seem to mind the teasing. I was dishing up her Liver & Chicken meal this morning. I put it on a foam plate, and then throw away the plate when she's done. I figure liver is a nourishing meat for a pre-surgical, growing, cat.
She's very mischievous, so we call her "Varmit" sometimes when she's very frisky. She's figured out how to climb from Ron's wheelchair, to the counter, and then onto the stove. We have a traditional gas stove. I've warned Ron to feel the entire stovetop before turning on a burner.
I like to dish up her meal on top of the stove. It's a good surface and close to the feeding area, I just put it down on the floor. However, she got to it first.
So, I had a 3 pound brown tabby on top of my stove (I weighed her last night). I decided to tease Ron.
"I've got dinner, but I want you to see it." I placed his hand on Baby Girl's back, she was all stretched out eating away. "Roast Varmit in Garlic Sauce".
He laughed so hard she jumped off the stove, and I put the plate on the floor, where it belongs. If things ever got bad, by the way, we'd probably let the cats eat us.
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