Fat-cat enabler

It's true. I am "Nutmeg the Manic-Eater Cat"'s supplier. As he pines for the outdoors, he yearns to eat, which is to say, a hell of a lot. This cat relishes his kibble like nobody's business, and although a diet was strongly suggested -and followed sincerely and earnestly for three weeks- I fear the Nut now weighs more than ever. As I also mother a pug, I cannot tell you how many times I've said to myself -upon hearing the common pug-owner refrain "he just won't stop eating!"- "You're the one in charge of the food. Just.don't.feed.him." And I hold up well with Percy. He gets carrot tops and bruised fruit and chicken bits that make me cringe, but other than the quickly pilfered crayon or Lego man, he gets one cup a day and that's it.

Why I cannot also maintain this "keeper of the food scoop" label with Nutmeg,  I just don't know. He beseeches me with his eyes, he rubs my legs with his torso and tail, he nips my nose at 4am, he implores me at every moment to give him just a snack, if not a full meal. And I cannot resist. Perhaps it's because I always thought, erroneously, that cats self-regulate their intake. Perhaps his lack of neediness beyond the realm of food and my best chair (grr; scratched to shreds) makes him more appealing to me than Percy who basically wants to be worn at all times. Who knows?

What I do know is that I seem to pour from his food bin freely as if in a trance. Has the Nut hypnotized me with his magnetic, unblinking yellow eyes? Tom falls prey to it too! It's weird. It's like the cat has a tiny mind-control joystick that he employs at whim. I think he grooves on it. Meanwhile Percy would either eat or never notice such a mighty bit of machinery.

And that's really the crux, isn't it? Those differing expectations I have of cat versus pug.

Cats seem smart, wily, independent, self-contained. For god's sakes, they tidy up after themselves, keep themselves smelling like roses and need their own time, thank you very much. Meanwhile, Pug regularly pees on his own leash, poops on his own leg, growls at cartoon dogs on TV and chases his own tail for too long. Does he really not know that tail is affixed to his very being? I actually do love Percy and boy, he is always good for a snuggle, but frankly, I have almost no expectations of him, while I do a little with Cat.

And those differing expectations foster pretty different relationships. It's interesting to consider.

Did y'all watch 60 Minutes? I loved, LOVED this recent bit on Tabasco Sauce, Avery Island, and the McIlhenny family.

And this blood orange Applejack Rabbit was the cat's meow! Purr!

Tabasco's McIlhenny

R.I.P. Mr. McIlhenny (Paul Carr Polk). The McIlhenny family invented Tabasco sauce after the Civil War and ran the business from Avery Island, LA, one of the five salt dome islands in south central Louisiana, between Lafayette and the Gulf. We took a field trip there once, and before you even entered the building, the acrid, tangy smell of the fermenting pepper mash made you gasp. Involuntarily, your eyes began to weep. But there's nothing quite like it (though admittedly I only like the original red sauce; T likes the green one), and one of the items I most wanted when I got married was a filigreed silver Tabasco bottle holder for my table. I still love and use it.