Alfred on the other hand is less secure. He meows and I meow back. Or moo, which just pisses him off. I tap the partially-full food dishes with my toe and point and tell him to go eat what's in the bowls and stop asking for more. He stretches up to the counter when I get something for myself to eat. And then he pouts and starts acting as if Herr Fatguy will never feed them again.
|Sad Alfred is so Sad. :(|
Or maybe I'm mad and getting ready to sell them to the itinerant Canadian fur traders that must be in the neighborhood.
I had to comfort him and assure him that cat fur isn't really worth all that much and that he would indeed live to eat again. It took a little while but he seems to have chilled out a little.
I was careful to not mention the recent increase in demand for cat organs in the underground cat transplant market. I'd probably never see him again.