As she does every morning, Boss Lady’s Mother called Tyrone inside for breakfast and put down his plate of wet catfood. As I do every morning, I took up sentry duty mere inches from Tyrone. Being the skittish cat that he is, Tyrone hates this. And, being the softy she is, Boss Lady’s Mother made me move away. Of course, she then rattled all the pots and pans in the cupboard directly adjacent to Tyrone’s breakfast nook. Tyrone responded by attempting to launch himself through the front door: nevermind breakfast, he wanted out of this scary place. He’s probably lucky he doesn’t have a concussion considering how hard he hit the door. I interpreted this as a sign Tyrone was finished eating and took it upon myself to clean up anything he left. Boss Lady shooed me away, Boss Lady’s Mother calmed Tyrone, and Tyrone returned to eating.
When his plate was clean of wet food, he immediately commenced begging for a 2nd ration. Boss Lady accused him of being a fat pig and refused to enable his unhealthy eating habits. Boss Lady’s Mother, once again the softy, relented and gave him some dry food. I came over to offer to eat the food instead-thus preventing further weight gain by the cat, but they both shooed me away.
When Tyrone finally finished and made his exit, I wandered over to clean up any crumbs he left. He usually leaves quite a few, and I was busy nosing the plate across the floor when Boss Lady walked by. “You Pig!” She exclaimed. “You had your breakfast. You may not be fat, but you’re just as much a pig as the cat.”
At least I’m not fat.