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 dragged by. Mom came home for lunch. HER lunch, not mine.
The afternoon dragged by, also. I drank more water. Finally, Mom came home for dinner. Yippee!! Supper! But supper was not to be. No chicken legs! No turkey necks! Nothing. Nada. Zilch. Mom says that since I am eating Bones and Raw Food, I have to fast one day a week. This was terrible news.
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 four-week-old lion cubs. I didn't feel like a pride of four-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 amused. But nothing was funny. 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 the floor and went downstairs to get 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.
"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 the floor and went downstairs to get 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 put it, and had skipped two or three meals in a row. I am so glad I am now back to BARFing. Mom likes the way my coat is so silky and soft and stays combed. I just like raw meat. And veggies. And garlic. And salmon 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 legs. I love chicken legs. 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 legss or veggie glop.
Yet.
No comments:
Post a Comment