Tonight's dinner was a Waldorf Salad. Simple, clean and easy, with a bit of chicken on the side. I mean how hard is chopping up a Granny Smith apple, a handful of grapes, a stick or two of celery, some walnuts and dress with some mayonnaise. Easy?
Not when you're being supervised.
I bring out the chopping board and find a knife.
There is a supervisor at my heels. His name is Lucifer.
I start chopping the apple.
He pats my leg. "Can I have some?" he asks.
"No, it's apple, you won't like it."
"Go on, let me try."
I held out a piece for him. He screwed up his nose.
He did the same thing with everything I was chopping up. Demand, sniff, screw up his nose.
I told him.
He does the same thing when I'm opening tins - baked beans and chickpeas are the worst.
I had a Babybel cheese for dessert (small and boring). He wanted to try that too. I broke off a little bit for him. He sniffed it and screwed up his nose, walking away with disdain.
Fussy bastard. It seems if it's not licky treats or raw chicken, he's not interested.
Cats. Who'd have them?
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