I finished washing the dishes that were in the sink, and stepped around the open dishwasher door to grab more from the kitchen counter. I love to bake, but boy, sometimes the end result is two dozen cupcakes and a wreck of a kitchen! There was frosting smeared across the counter, on mixer, on the coffeepot (how?), and sprinkles littered every flat surface. “I need an assistant to clean up after me,” I muttered.
I heard a thunk from the direction of my feet and looked down. Freddie had head butted the cabinet door hard enough to open it. “Take it easy on that head,” I said, closing the cabinet. “I kind of like it.”
He looked up at me sad-eyed. “I’m so hungry,” he said.
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I glanced over at the clock and winced. It was about two hours past the time I normally fed him.
“I’m sorry, little guy,” I told him, feeling terrible. “I got busy and forgot.”
He gave me his best sad look. “My belly didn’t forget,” he told me.
I glanced over at his kibble bowl. “You have food,” I told him. “You aren’t going to starve.”
He looked over at the bowl. “It’s almost empty,” he said.
I snorted. “It is not! It’s at least half full!”
He narrowed his eyes at me. “Half empty, you mean. Like my belly.”
I shook my head, but reached into the cabinet for one of his wet food plates. The thunk noise started again as he rubbed his head against the lower cabinet doors in excitement. I set the plate down on the counter and noticed that there wasn’t much space to dish up his dinner. There were dishes and cupcakes everywhere. “Shoot!” I said quietly. I didn’t want to open a can of cat food near unprotected cupcakes, just in case some of it splashed out.
I turned and grabbed my cupcake carrier and began carefully filling it with the little cakes. It could hold about 18 cupcakes if I packed them in just right; more if I didn’t care about them getting smooshed together. I did care, though, so I ended up with six cakes that had no home.
“Hey!” Freddie exclaimed from the floor.
“What?” I asked looking down at him.
He grunted in exasperation and nodded his head toward his food bowl.
“Oh!” I said. “Sorry! I got distracted.”
“Distracted? I’m! Hungry!”
“I know! I’m sorry. Just give me a minute.”
I started opening cabinets looking for something in which to store the extra cupcakes. The storage containers I had that were wide enough to hold them were not tall enough to keep from smooshing the frosting. Should I just use a bunch of smaller ones? There’s two of us, I thought, if we each eat one tonight then I only need to store four.
Freddie brushed his body up against the back of my legs forcefully, causing my knees to bed. I had to grab the counter to keep from falling. He’s a big cat, and when he throws that weight unexpectedly at the backs of my knees terrible things can happen. “What the hell?” I asked, looking down.
“Dinner!” he said.
I knew I couldn’t keep him waiting any longer. I moved the four extra cakes to the stove to get them out of the way and reached for a can of food. I quickly scooped it up and walked over to his food spot, carefully avoiding him as he danced around my feet in anticipation. We reached his food and water dishes at the same time, and I bent over slowly to set the food in front of him, mindful of my sore back.
“Move faster!” he said, dancing in place.
“Sorry,” I told him. “I’m getting older and my back doesn’t like when I bend over sometimes.” I dropped the dish at his feet and moved out the way as he dove for it.
I turned back to the cabinets, finally finding something that would work for the four extra cakes. My baking safely stored in the fridge, I went back to my cleaning, ignoring the gross sounds coming from the corner of the kitchen. Freddie’s table manners left something to be desired, but I couldn’t blame him this time as I had kept him waiting for far too long. Poor boy was very hungry and attacked his meal with everything he had.
I finished the dishes and closed the dishwasher, hitting the buttons to start it. Grabbing a wet kitchen sponge, I set to work cleaning the counters. Frosting is mostly butter and is not the easiest thing to remove from tile, so I had my work cut out for me. Once the counter by the sink was finished, I turned to the island only to stop when I made eye contact with an irked feline. He was done with his dinner and had hopped up onto one of the kitchen chairs to watch me.
“I can’t believe you forgot to feed me,” he said.
"It wasn’t on purpose,” I said, defensively. “And it’s not like it happens that often.”
“Once is too often!” he said, angry.
I sighed. He had a point. He relied completely on me for food and I had let him down. “I’m sorry,” I said earnestly. “I’ll try not to let it happen again.”
He sniffed. “See that you don’t,” he said, then jumped down and strolled out of the kitchen. I watched him go, then turned back to his dishes and bent down to pick up his empty plate. The kibble bowl was half full. “You weren’t going to starve!” I called after him. He ignored me.
Happy Caturday, Peeps! It occurs to me that this story is very similar to the one I posted last week. I apologize for that, but these are mostly based on things that happen over the course of the week. I did bake cupcakes this week, which made a huge mess (I don’t bake neat, lol), and poor Freddie’s meal was late. When I’m in the kitchen and he thinks he should be fed, he really does bump his head against the cabinets to get my attention. The longer I make him wait, the more forcefully he does it. He might be part woodpecker.