Plaid Cat Does Not Approve

Of all the cats that hang out in our backyard, none is quite so imperious as Plaid Cat. She's a lovely brown and black calico with a sense of royal entitlement that would make Henry VIII blush.

When food is late coming into the back yard, Plaid Cat will sit on the top step of the back stoop and look in the window. She'll walk with me (but not too close) when I pour the food and then immediately go nose-down. Then she'll spend the rest of the day lounging in the sun in her preferred corner of our yard, keeping an eye on the rest of the cats.

My dear friend Mama D recently adopted a cat from our shelter and got some of the dry food the shelter cats eat. Her new cat didn't want it, so she gave it to me. We're not supposed to bring open food into the shelter, so I told her I'd give it to our yard cats.

So this morning Plaid Cat was window-looking and I grabbed the new stuff. Out I walk, with Her Royal Catness looking on with bored superiority. I pour the new food....she dives in, and gives a noise that, if I spoke cat, would say "what the hell is this?" She looked at me, looked at the food, looked at me, and gave that noise again.

Cats are creatures of habit and do not like change. I don't blame them. I'm not fond of it either. But when you try to change a cat's food, it's like you're trying to pull a fast one. And Plaid Cat called me on it. The odd thing is, one of the other cats was back there as well (the sleek black kitty I call ....um...Sleek Black Kitty) and he didn't like the new food either.

So I put dumped the food out of the dishes and into a neat pile by the back fence, went inside for the original food, and refilled the dishes.

Later on I saw Lothario, the big fluffy orange guy, chowing down on the new stuff like it was the best thing ever.

Cat. Fickle, and damned sure you know when they're unhappy.