We have two cats, a brother and sister. Neither my husband nor I grew up with cats. In fact, we’re more what you would consider “dog people”. But we have kids…. and those kids batted their eyelashes and said “pretty please” and now we have two cats.
The female is Callie and she prefers children over adults. She really prefers to be left alone but if she desires human contact it’s usually a child she hunts down. At night she will pick one of the girls’ beds to curl up on. Randomly – and very rarely – her love cup will be so empty and she will be so overcome with the need to be pet that she will pester-pester-pester me until I give in and rub her belly. She’s also our hunter. She saved us from numerous scorpions in Arizona. Although presenting them to the children as gifts was a little disturbing.
The male is Charge. He’s trans-specied. He’s hoping to save up enough money for Species Reassignment Surgery because he’s really a dog trapped in a cat’s body. He loves everyone and believes that every visitor to our home is there to love on him. He comes when he’s called. He fetches. And now… he begs.
He was sick a few weeks ago and the vet said to offer him canned food to help increase his appetite. (what a joke! he’s a fat cat already!) We gave him half of a can of food. That’s all it took. Now he’s addicted. He still eats his dry crunchy food but as soon as he hears me preparing food in the kitchen he comes running. He will either sit up on his back haunches or he will stand on his hind legs with one paw extended to the counter top and meow. And meow. And meow. This will continue until I let him smell whatever it is I’m doing. *Don’t worry – he doesn’t get to smell until I’m done with the empty can or mixing spoon.
Maybe I’ve got it wrong. Maybe he really isn’t begging to eat food. It might just be that he’s seen Ratatouille one too many times and now he thinks he’s a master chef.