Breakfast today was a tin of tuna. Yes, I know, tuna for breakfast - I'm busy and need protein. It's quick and easy.
Not that there's anything wrong with having tuna for breakfast. If I had more time, I'd boil and egg. I might do that for morning tea.
But what I find most amusing about having a tin of tuna for breakfast is the response of Lucifer.
It appears that anything which comes out of a tin belongs to him.
He's all over me like a rash.
Open a tin and he's by my side, jumping up, clawing at my trousers wanting something. Doesn't matter if it's baked beans, tomatoes, beetroot or lentils. If it comes from a tin, he wants it.
But he seems to have a rather special tuna sense. It seems all the tuna belongs to him, and it he doesn't get tuna, he gets very needy.
An hour after the tuna has been eaten, he's sitting in the window looking at me like I've skinned his puppy, demanding treats. It's like tuna is cat crack.
Cats really are strange creatures.
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