Caturday 43: The Waiting Game

It takes a lot of patience to be a cat. Lacey will sometimes hover and wait for hours — always for food, of course.

First thing in the morning, she waits for me to get up. I do not take pictures of this, for it may be 3:30, and I'd like to sleep some more. Sometimes I do get a little more sleep, and sometimes I don't.

Typically, once I do get up, make coffee, and sit at my desk, she looks at me and waits for me to feed her kibble by hand.

Then she waits for breakfast. If it is early enough, she will sleep because I don't head to the kitchen until it gets close to 9. But she is nearby and keeps track of my every movement. For example: it is just past 7:30 as I write this, and she is lying on the floor between me and the door. It's pathetic really.

These are two, recent waiting-for-breakfast shots, both taken from my recliner.

Once she breakfasts, she will enjoy a nice long nap, then she is back to playing the waiting game for her two o'clock lunch. On this day, she met me on the stairs to remind me to keep to the schedule.

While lunch time usually isn't a terribly long wait, supper often is. Sometimes, she will be ready at 5, but I won't feed her until 7. Although this might seem cruel, I know from experience that if I do feed her at 5, she will still expect the 7 o'clock feeding.

These are two of her waiting-for-supper poses. Isn't the second one heart-rending? 

She gets a small tin of some sort of seafood pate daily. It cannot by turkey, chicken or beef. Oh no no no. And it can't be chunky; it must be pate. It took us almost three years to come up with this regime, but here we are.

I divide the can it into thirds. If I give her more, she will tend to leave some. She also has free access to dry food, which is of good quality, so she is well taken care of and will not starve. Strangely enough, the dry food is chicken, and in this form, chicken works for our very strange moggy.

Oh . . . it is almost 8AM, and she has come back to the computer chair to importune me. It seems like her pitiful, pleading stare might just soften my stone heart today, and get her an early breakfast.