Dear Little Cat,
Is there some sort of logical explanation for the way you eat? It doesn't even have to be human logic really; feline logic will suffice.
In the 15 months that we've owned you, you have been observed eating out of the food bowl only five times. Why do you feel it necessary to scoop the dry catfood out onto the floor before consuming it, then leaving all the little crumbs behind to attract ants?
Worse yet, why do you prefer to slide the food bowl next to the water bowl so you can scoop the food into the water and then retrieve the floaties from the water in order to consume them? I wouldn't mind this behavior so much if it didn't involve flinging water everywhere -- the walls, the floor, the trash can, the fire extinguisher, the container for paper recyclables. We had to resort to placing a folded towel under the water bowl to confine at least some of the mess, but now you like to play with the towel, which generally upends the water bowl, sending a river of water across the downward slope of the floor so it pools under the legs of the antique cherry dining table.
Apparently the human occupants of the house are easy to train. We tried non-skid bowls, but that just meant you'd empty the entire food bowl onto the floor in an attempt to transfer the contents to the water bowl. We reverted to the original containers because, when we hear you sliding the food bowl around, we can run to toss a handful of its contents into the water bowl, thereby limiting the mess you will make. And since you purr the entire time you are fishing/eating, we can only assume our reponse was exactly what you had intended. But, at least one of the other cats has fallen under your spell as well. Lester, who was perfectly happy with tap water in the bowl for the two years we owned him before you entered the picture, will now only drink water that has had dry cat food floating in it. Duchess, who is the finicky geriatric feline, won't go near the water bowl unless it is spotless and uncontaminated, and would never dream of stepping in the watery mess you leave behind on the floor.
On good days it's comical the amount of time we spend maintaining the smorgasboard for you; on bad days it doesn't even begin to approach funny.
What gives?
Signed,
Owner who says, "It's a good thing you're so cute"



Reply With Quote


