And they are not happy.
Of course, cats are almost never happy. As long term cat staff, I realize and accept this as my lot in life. But even factoring this in, the local furry overlords are grumpy, and letting us know about it.
They don't care that we work our fingers to the bone to buy them cat food (3 kinds!) or various toys. Or that we comb them often, usually daily. That we provide laps, and chin scritching. That they have the finest windows available. They don't believe we consistently top the cat polling as best staff. (We ask other cats if they would like to lead the life of Curtis and Celina, and to a cat they say yes.
No. All they know is that this wet food smells a bit different than the last batch. Never mind that it's the same as the batch before the last couple, of which they snarfed down with unseemly haste and disgusting noises.
It won't hurt Curtis to lose a bit of weight, but Celina is pretty slender. It's my theory cats know to the mouthful how much to eat to keep fur from bone. That's how much they are eating lately, but we will remain firm. Firm I tell you. No exceptions. Yes, we've heard all about the cat judge, and we've been pre-sentenced to so many eternities in The Great Kitty Box in the sky that a few more won't matter.
Here they are, trying to convince us the end is near for them. That they are weak and feeble. Do you believe it?
The sunrise this morning was pretty nice even though it came along awfully early. Still catching up from a busy weekend.
Shortly after this was taken I was in the pool water running for an hour with the awesome Katie, hearing the stories of her latest adventures.