Smoky, our six-year-old three-legged grey tabby, had a disagreement with his breakfast this morning. He wanted it to stay down: it wanted to come up.
Breakfast won 😦
We never scold him when this happens. Obviously, he can’t help being poorly sometimes–even if he did bolt his breakfast in ten seconds flat as if he was running late for a bus. We quickly cleared up what little mess there was and gave him time and space to recover.
‘Should I give him some fish, seeing as the meat didn’t agree with him?’ Shana asked.
‘No. Best let his stomach settle down first. Give him some dry kibbles, if anything,’ I said, trying to dredge up anything useful I might have picked up from watching snippets of ‘All Creatures Great and Small’ on the Freeview Drama channel. Now if Smoky was a sheep…
Later in the morning, Shana decided to put some cod and mackerel out for Smoky. He didn’t eat much of that though, preferring a few dainty sips of water. Towards lunchtime, Shana put down a small helping of meaty cat food. ‘I’ll leave the fish out though. Then he can take his pick,’ she said.
Thus it was that when Smoky came down from a catnap upstairs later on, he was faced with three bowls:
- Cod and mackerel.
- Mystery meat chunks.
- Crunchy kibbles.
Which as far as I’m concerened amounts to a buffet. All that was missing is a few cheese cubes on cocktail sticks.