Cats have biscuits upstairs and downstairs all the time; wet food in the evening, between 8-ish 9-ish. Milk every two or three days, sometimes tuna or mackerel (found this half price and stocked up.) Tonight - right, milk, definitely; after Mouse, who tends to be constipated, had diarrohea a few days ago, I haven't given milk, but she's solid again so yes, milk, and I'll open a tin of mackerel too. After I've watched a 1940s dvd (I'm into old films) which is due to finish around 7.30.
All through the Ealing Studio film noir I'm thinking, milk...mackerel, milk... mackerel. By the time the anti-hero had been clobbered by the police and his unwilling accomplice forgiven by her husband, in between thoughts of milk and mackerel, I realised I had two rowdy gingers on my hands.
'OY! Where's our tea then?'
Molly was screaming, Emily was yelling. Now there was no way they could know I intended mackerel for their tea - the tins are upstairs in the back bedroom where they dine. I had left the milk bottle on the draining board to come to room temperature, but that was all.
'All right, all right, I'm coming!'
Dash upstairs with the milk bottle and there's Mouse, big plushy black with white front (at this time of year we say she's wearing her black winter cardigan lol.)
'Where's my milk and mackerel then???'
I dish up, one pouch and a tin of steam-cooked John West Mackerel (no added brine) smushed up together, with Molly bashing herself against my legs and snorting like a little bull with excitement.
Cats' chorus: 'And about time too!'
But how did they KNOW?
They NEVER carry on like that as a rule.
Be careful out there, because cats can read your thoughts lol
