Nibbling to Death

I got another quarter of Inter-Mission done and managed to record five more stories for the next one. Yay.

All because I went to sleep long about 5PM and was out of it until 3AM.

Little kitties were wont to make pest of themselves, too. I stood firm and didn't feed them until it was five. I had to lock them out of the room because they were wont to trample my keyboards and get in my way and all that nonsense.

Speaking of nonsense, I need to make sure Pippi eats all of her food and Jolie doesn't eat it for her. To that end, I'm feeding them at opposite ends of the house and adding a food cover over Pippi's dish until she's interested in eating the rest.

Once again, I am bodyguard to a feline.

Aah, takes me back.

My family alone knows what's up with that statement, so for the rest of you... When I was in my teen/tween years my family adopted a silver mackerel tabby we named Missy for her dainty manners. The chief reason we adopted her was that we saw her chasing a red-bellied black snake through our front yard.

...just... guess that it's one of the deadlier ones, okay? You're right.

So we were all like, "Yeah, that one's a keeper" and decided to feed her and let her into our house. And give her medicines and other nonsense.

Anyway, Missy had extreme food anxiety and would meow at us if we walked away from her when she was eating. She feared bigger and meaner creatures coming to take the foods away. Therefore, part of my furbaby parenting duties was standing, legs akimbo, over this relatively smol little tabby and making occasional soothing noises so she could eat her fill.


This time, I'm actively protecting one smol feline from another smol feline. With a food-cover. Because that makes so much sense.

My life. I don't have any.