This is Slushy, the smartest cat I know. We first met her in the fall – we thought she was a stray because she hung out by our garage and meowed pitifully and incessantly - especially on rainy, chilly nights. We felt sorry for her, so we started placing handfuls of kibble for her on our garden path when she showed up. She trained us well, her begging meows quickly morphing from pitiful to demanding, and always rewarding our generosity by making a noise that literally sounds like “nom nom nom nom” as she chews. We upgraded her dining situation by purchasing her her own dish (which, incidentally, has been run over at least once by both Randy and I).
A couple months ago our next-door-neighbor saw us dutifully feeding Slushy (our name for her) and let us know that she belongs to his next-door-neighbor on the other side. We’d been duped. Which makes sense, because the crafty little cat always did look a little too healthy to be a stray. So we did what any self-respecting, hard-working family would do. We’ve kept right on catering to her every whim, feeding her on command. She’s very persuasive.
If the people two houses down from us happen to be reading, you owe us a couple bags of Purina Indoor Cat Food.
SO- what you’re saying is that if I happen to show up at your back door every night at, say, 7:15 you will have a bowl of ice cream waiting for me? Because that’s how I read that post…
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