Sailor here.
Mom said that yesterday was a fast day. Wrong! It was a slow day, a very, very slow day. I waited for breakfast. It didn't come. I waited and waited. No breakfast. I drank a little water. I waited some more. The morning seemed interminable. Mom came home for lunch. HER lunch, not mine. The afternoon seemed interminable also. I drank more water. Finally, Mom came home for dinner. Yippee!! Supper! But supper was not to be. No supper! No chicken backs! No turkey necks! Nothing. Nada. Zilch.
My tummy was hungry. My tummy was noisy. It was so noisy that it woke Mom up in the middle of the night. It said, "Yeeeorrrowwww, grrrurrrurrr, squeeeleeeleee." Mom said I sounded like a pride of 4 week-old lion cubs. I didn't feel like a pride of 4 week-old lion cubs. I felt HUNGRY! Mom didn't catch on, but her stomach did. It started growling in sympathy. Our tummies played a duet for about 20 minutes. If I hadn't been so hungry, I would have been vastly amused. As it were, I was on the verge of starving to death. Mom didn't seem to notice. Instead, she turned over and started making lawnmower noises. I tried to sleep.
Some hours later, I woke Mom up. "Sailor, are you HORKING??" she exclaimed. Yup. I threw up all over the floor. "I TOLD you I was hungry," I said. Mom got up and examined the floor. She didn't seem worried. "Just a little water," she told me, as if I didn't already know. Mom's big on education. Then Mom cleaned up and went downstairs and got me a cookie. "Don't tell anyone," she said, "because the remedy for barfing if your are not BARFing is fasting. And I am not sure that the remedy for barfing if you are BARFing isn't fasting." I promised her I would say NOT ONE WORD. Not ever. To anyone. Ever. I ate my cookie. My tummy smiled. I went back to sleep and slept the sleep of an innocent man. Wronged, perhaps, but innocent.
Mom slept the sleep of a guilty Mom. She said she'd only fast me for one meal in the future since I seemed to have trouble with an empty stomach. She had forgotten when I first came to live with her that I threw up in the middle of the night because "I resisted the switch to kibble," as she puts it, and had skipped two or three meals in a row. I am so glad I am back on my original meal plan even though the kibble was, well, kibble, and OK and all that, but it wasn't turkey necks. Mom likes the way my coat is so silky and soft and stays combed. I like the raw meat. And the ground-up veggies. And the garlic. And the flax oil. I'm not crazy about apple cider vinegar, though, and have no special feelings about kelp and alfalfa. What are kelp and alfalfa? They would make great names for cats.
This morning I got my back-to-usual veggie glop and dinner was chicken backs. I love chicken backs. I love the way they crunch. I love the way they smell. I love the way they bleed all over the floor. I love the way Mom watches me eat.
Now I have something else to lord over Zoe. She doesn't get chicken wings or veggie glop. Yet.
Sailor the unseasick sailor and Zoe in absentia |
