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About The Void, and where it is located
Nov. 25th, 2014 06:00 pmNamo is on a diet. Namo is always on some kind of diet, the trouble is it never works. Namo is a sly guy. His sister Vaire, though endowed with grey fur dotted with black spots which is no way slenderising, is the skinny one who needs to feed regularly. Her teeth are working against her, some of them already pulled, her mouth often inflamed. Namo´s tummy saggs, and we want to remedy this. Ok, I want to remedy it, hubby still´s not convinced and gives Namo goodies. So if you have to feed two cats with varying feeding requirements, you have to make sure the cats are fed separately. Noon is the time of day when only Vaire will get her food.
Version one: I silently get up the stairs, Vaire under my arm. I´m halfway up when Namo thunders up, squeezes his weight through the stair gate (we´ll have to cut a bigger opening soon) and is the first at the feeding dish. I put Vaire down, grab Namo, throw him out of the bathroom and have to search again for Vaire, who is not hungry, as usual.
Version two: Vaire is already up and seems to be hungry. I fill her food bowl, she licks at her food, I close the door and wonder where Namo is hiding. I open the door again, yup, food is gone, Namo has been hiding indeed- in the bathroom. With the door open, he shoots out of the bathroom, very content his plan has worked again, whistling Verdi´s triumphal march while thundering down the stairs. For that reason I am now bound to search the room before Vaire will have her much needed nourishment.
In the evening the cats feed together. I have to stay next to them, because Namo, having gobbled his meal down at a record time, waits for me to leave, and then he´ll chase off his sister, a slow feeder, and will demolish what was her share.
Today Namo changed tack and decided to take matters into his paws: he tried to climb the bathroom shelf where the cat food tins are stored, alas, ours is made of hardwood, no easy case for an overweight cat. I found him hanging on the crossbar, miaowing miserably. No way up, no way down! He looked like an enormous black pear, which I plucked off the shelf and chucked out of the bathroom. Namo´s stomach must be one dark void. I´m pretty sure that one day I will find Morgoth walking out of it!
Version one: I silently get up the stairs, Vaire under my arm. I´m halfway up when Namo thunders up, squeezes his weight through the stair gate (we´ll have to cut a bigger opening soon) and is the first at the feeding dish. I put Vaire down, grab Namo, throw him out of the bathroom and have to search again for Vaire, who is not hungry, as usual.
Version two: Vaire is already up and seems to be hungry. I fill her food bowl, she licks at her food, I close the door and wonder where Namo is hiding. I open the door again, yup, food is gone, Namo has been hiding indeed- in the bathroom. With the door open, he shoots out of the bathroom, very content his plan has worked again, whistling Verdi´s triumphal march while thundering down the stairs. For that reason I am now bound to search the room before Vaire will have her much needed nourishment.
In the evening the cats feed together. I have to stay next to them, because Namo, having gobbled his meal down at a record time, waits for me to leave, and then he´ll chase off his sister, a slow feeder, and will demolish what was her share.
Today Namo changed tack and decided to take matters into his paws: he tried to climb the bathroom shelf where the cat food tins are stored, alas, ours is made of hardwood, no easy case for an overweight cat. I found him hanging on the crossbar, miaowing miserably. No way up, no way down! He looked like an enormous black pear, which I plucked off the shelf and chucked out of the bathroom. Namo´s stomach must be one dark void. I´m pretty sure that one day I will find Morgoth walking out of it!
