I recently made a list of the areas in my life where I’m not living a life I totally love. There are 24 of them. One is dealing with the back-end administration of creative projects. Another is romance. And then there’s the the food fight between my two cats and me.
Well, my cat, and the cat my ex- left, who is now also my cat if ownership is figured in number of vet bills paid.
When not consumed by thoughts of food, the cats are great. One of them does tricks. The other’s a comedian. But when it comes to eating, these cats are playing me like a tether-ball — and they’re two tough characters when it comes to meal-time – see below.
Perpetrator #1: Cosita
Pooks the Cat, aka “DJ Pooky,” aka “The Great Pookerini”
(Yes, these are actually my cats ).
So, here’s what’s going down and folks, I admit it, I need help.
The cats eat 3 times a day: breakfast and lunch is wet food … a 6th of a can each – and if you don’t think parsing out a 6th of a can of cat food challenges your ability with spacial relations, give it a try.
But that’s just where it starts getting tough.
Cosita eats up on a ledge. Pooks eats down on the floor. At least, that’s how it’s supposed to work.
But she – Cosita – isn’t a big foodie. She eats couple bites, sniffs around, jumps down and goes into the living room to think about eating. If I’m on top of things, I cover her food and put it on top of the fridge.
Later, after she’s thought about it enough — she comes into my studio and starts eating kleenex. This is my cue to go back down to the kitchen and pull her food off the top of fridge. Then she eats another couple bites, jumps down and goes into the living room to think about it some more. (How that cat keeps her plus-size figure is beyond me.)
Because usually, during at least one of these episodes … I forget. I just start doing something else while I’m supposed to be food-monitoring. She jumps off the ledge and I’m out clearing snow, or answering emails, or writing a song. I’m not monitoring the situation. And HE jumps up on the ledge and inhales the rest of her food. (So it’s no mystery why he’s so stout.)
So then she comes back into my studio, starts eating Kleenex. And I remember I forgot all about food control.
And once again … I’ve failed. I’ve FAILED at cat feeding.
This is a subject I think about a lot. I FANTASIZE about complex devices that one cat wears – a bauble that opens a trap door to food but only for one cat. A door that closes down within seconds if that cat isn’t present. But I don’t have the skills to build these things — I’m still struggling with Instagram.
So I’m coming to you for HELP. For experience, strength and hope. What do YOU do??? Certainly I’m not the only person in the world who’s ever had this problem.
Here’s how desperate I am: I’ll even take advice — if it’s something you’ve actually done yourself and it worked. I’m all ears.
Help me turn these — these anxiety-mongers – back into the angelic little fur-balls I know they can be. I can’t do it alone. I give up.