My vegetarianism has been protesting each morning for months. I’ve had to prepare a cooked chicken meal for Duc le Chat.
Before this, for a number of years, he’s been on an expensive diet for his urinary dysfunction. I’ve merely opened a tin of Veterinarian-approved food, held my breath and dished out his meal.
Then, three months ago, while I was enjoying a family trip with my brother, Duc suddenly displayed extreme symptoms of hyperthyroidism. When I got home, he had lost 20% of his body weight in spite of eating voraciously. No wonder he’s been such an avid hunter. He’s had a metabolism that demanded feeding.
During his first month on the thyroid meds, Duc and I maneuvered unpredictable peaks and valleys with his appetite. I discovered cooked chicken thighs with some of the expensive canned food and lots of chicken broth would stimulate his appetite.
During the second month, he became overweight, lethargic and disinterested in life. I trundled him back to the Vet who confirmed that the dosage of his thyroid meds were too high. After two weeks at half the dosage, the delightful, defiant Duc is back.
If the story ended there, it would mean I’d be off kitchen duty. However, Duc has developed an overly keen taste for greasy chicken thighs mixed with gourmet cat food bathed in chicken drippings.
This morning I decided it was time to wean the little feline. Leaving out the chicken thighs, I delivered the special canned food drizzled generously with chicken broth. He licked it delicately, pawed the floor like it was kitty litter and went outside in a huff.
“Fine, Duc. I’m not cooking you chicken!”
He came to the open door a number of times and meowed plaintively. I ignored him each time.
Suddenly it was quiet. The peace was suspect. About a half hour later, through a mirror, I saw Duc making his way towards the open door again. He plopped down silently on the outside mat.
Did I say defiant?