I Beg Your Pardon
By Gordon Hopkins
I grew up with dogs. I remember as a very young lad my family had a dog. Then we had two dogs. Then we had four dogs. This is how things get out of hand.
The thing about dogs is, they beg. For food, I mean. They don’t beg for things that kids beg for, like getting to stay up an hour later or the latest iPhone or what have you.
You can’t really blame them. Dogs love food. It is their raison d’etre, even more than running in circles and barking at squirrels. So when a dog sees its person having dinner and they aren’t eating as well, its only natural they feel obligated to rectify the situation in the only way they know how. They turn on those big, sad eyes and whimper pitifully.
Yes, its only natural. Its also annoying as all get out.
Pre-dinner preparations at my childhood house included not only putting out the forks and spoons and napkins, but chasing the dogs around the house, trying to gather them up and put them outside or in another room so we could have our meal in peace, if you call four hounds scratching at the door and wailing like they haven’t eaten for three months peace.
It was in later years that my family ended up adopting a Momma Cat and her babies. We were a dog family. Cats were not our thing. But what choice did we have? When a (very) soon-to-be-mother show up on your stoop, you aren’t going to tell her there’s no room at the inn.
Despite our initial trepidation, we soon loved Mamma Cat and her brood as much as any of our dogs. We also soon learned cats are not just pointy dogs. There are differences between cats and dogs and those differences are manifest.
Most notably, cats don’t beg for food. If they see you have food, they will just try and commandeer it as if it was always meant for them.
That brings me to now. As regular readers of this column may recall, my cats, Archie (the orange one) has had a little trouble with his insides and is on a diet of special food. By special, of course, I mean expensive. Though there seems to be nothing wrong with the insides of his little brother, Groucho (the black one), he is also eating that special (expensive) food because trying to feed them separately has proven impossible.
Typically, I feed my cats before I feed myself. My theory was, they won’t bother me and my food while they are eating their own.
It didn’t take long to disprove that theory.
Last night I was making a sandwich and, despite having a bowl of special (expensive) food in front of him, Groucho ignored it as soon as I brought out the bread and meat and mayo. Have you ever tried slathering mayo on a slice of bread while a cat tries to take it away from you? It is less fun than it sounds.
While Groucho was attacking my dinner, Archie didn’t bother me at all. Instead, he quickly finished his bowl of food and then proceeded to steal his brother’s food. I think we know which is the smart brother in this family.
