The other evening, Captain Cavedweller and I were doing a little work in the backyard when the neighbor’s horses wandered over to the fence.
Ninety-nine percent of the time they’ll get just close enough we can almost pet them, but not quite.
It just so happened to be a one percent evening because they moved closer to the fence for some good scratches.
CC disappeared in the house and reappeared with a bag of carrots. While we had the undivided attention of the equines, why not spoil them with a little treat?
Indeed.
The first carrot CC held out was sniffed then backed away from like he held a venomous reptile.
He dropped it in the pasture, thinking maybe the horse just didn’t want to eat from his hand.
Nope.
Because the second carrot he held out, the horse knocked out of his hand, rolled back his lips and shook his head, clearly expressing his opinions about carrots.
“What’s wrong with you two idiots? How many ways do we have to say ‘No Carrots!’ Can’t you dummies get it through your thick heads?”
And with that, they ambled off to a far corner of the pasture.
Properly chastised, we returned to the house where we were snubbed by the cat who rules the roost.
Of late, the Heinous Cat was developed a strange habit. If I sit outside to eat my lunch, he will plant himself next to the chair and stare at me until I give him a bite of whatever it is I’m eating.
That wouldn’t seem abnormal for a normal cat – which this one is not. In the twelve or so years he’s owned us, he’s never liked people food. Ever. So the first time he sat at the chair begging for food, I wondered if he’d gotten into some loco weed. I tossed him a little piece of chicken and he inhaled it, like he’d been starved for weeks (which his fat little belly would contradict). From then on, sharing my lunch with him is the expected norm (at least from his point of view).
Last night, I was trimming a bunch of beef for shish-kebabs and decided to see if the cat would like a piece of the meat. I tracked him down and held out the rich piece of beef. Warily, he sniffed it, licked it once, turned his head away with his nose wrinkled up and marched off.
Apparently, only cooked food off my plate is worthy of his royal Heinousness.
Do you have a persnickety pet at your house?
