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Now the cats are into it.
I wasn't very hungry at supper time, so I just cooked a couple of turkey pot pies. The delicious aroma filled the house and soon had all of us drooling, especially Cherokee, Samantha, and Pussy. When I sat down to eat and stuck a fork through the crust, I had their undivided attention. Their eyes followed the fork from pan to mouth, and they licked their collective chops as I carefully savored each morsel.
There was no way I could eat all that without sharing with my friends, so when I got to the last few bites of gravy in the bottom, I set the pan down on the floor. They swarmed that pan like a bunch of hungry in-laws.
The lightweight aluminum pan just wouldn't hold still for their onslaught. Every lick of the tongue sent it sliding across the floor; each cat was convinced the other two were trying to hog it all. The little dish literally flew around the room with the cats in hot pursuit, each, growling, snarling, and hissing at the other two. But none of them would stop licking long enough to fight. Soon there was more gravy on their faces than in either the pan or their stomachs.
Toby decided to help. He wasn't sure what the ruckus was all about, but he raced at their heels yapping his little brain out. Between him and the kitties it got quite noisy. Patty and I were giggling and whooping and hollering encouragement. Mac stayed on the couch at full alert, a look of extreme concern on his little pointy face, but I noticed he made no move to join in the melee.
The dish hit the wall at an angle and bounced off, rounding the corner and heading for the home stretch, almost completely hidden by flying paws, claws, ears, tails, and fur.
Cherokee fell out first, being the doyen of the group by quite a few years. Exhausted, he could only crouch and watch. He was soon followed by Samantha. Pussy kept up the good fight, eventually winding down and just sitting and staring at the clean, polished pie tin.
All three of them perked up when I set the second plate on the floor, but not a one moved. They just didn't have the energy. What luck! Mac casually sauntered over with an air of the expert showing the amateurs how to do it. With a flourish he gave a big slurp to the pan, then gave it the old fish eye as it moved away from him. Hmmm. This might not be as. . damn! There it goes again. He leaped, it took off across the floor, and the chase was on. The cats watched in amazement as Mac alternately licked, chased, and bounced off furniture. Graceful he ain't.
Finally he managed to jam the #$%@&^ pan between a chair leg and a dining table leg. But by then it was clean.
What next?
I just discovered a variation on the "Pot Pies" game; Pounce! After getting the kitties' attention by shaking the can and giving them a sniff of the Shrimp and Tuna contents, I put one piece in a pot-pie tin and set it on the floor. My. The reaction exceeded expectations (expectorations?) by a factor of at least 10. Patty and I are both sore from laughing at their frantic attempts to get that one morsel.
After about three laps around the living room, all three scrambling, screeching, and pawing at that elusive pie tin, one of them fetched it a swat that sent the Pounce flying right into the waiting jaws of Toby. Damn, those cats were mad! I thought they were going to have pup puree for lunch. Just imagine Cherokee holding the upper jaw, Samantha pulling down on the lower jaw, and Pussy frantically clawing somewhere down around Toby's innards trying to fish out the Pounce.
I made it up to them, though, rewarding each with several pieces of goody for putting on such a great show.
Now I know what to do for entertainment when things get quiet around here.
Editor's note:
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