Both Carmel and Wabby Wibby are stomping about the house in a fit. Well, not stomping - she's a bit too furry and fluffy (she's NOT fat!) to stomp, and Carmel just clicks her way across the hardwood floors, everywhere she goes.
They're not happy with me. The cat thinks that because we work at home, she should get fed all hours of the day. Honestly, her internal clock is not the same since we decided to locate our business in the house. She starts around 3pm - whining and meowing and giving me that wide-eyed stare that says, "I'm so hungry. You never feed me. Can't I have just a little treat?"
Unfortunately, I ignore her. Oh, sometimes I pet her a bit and sympathize, but... for the most part, I remind her that dinner is at 5, not 3. Eventually, she stomps off and takes another nap. But, she'll be back...right at the stroke of 5!
Meanwhile, Carmel never used to think she should eat early in the afternoon. I'm wondering if she isn't showing some of the symptoms Dr. Larry just talked about in his post on aging pets. Carmel acts hungry by mid-afternoon, too. She doesn't get as obnoxious about it as Wabby, but as soon as we feed the cat... Carmel expects her dinner, too. In the past, her dinner was a whole hour later than the cat's. (no, I don't remember why we did it that way)
Even though we're just resurfacing after the Nor'easter - which wasn't half as bad as they predicted, at least for us - we took Carmel blogging today and she was eager and happy to do so. She tugged hard at that leash! I wish I had time to take her again, since the sun did come out this afternoon, but I'm off to a meeting.
Which means - the boy (my son) will be in charge of feeding the so-starving animals. I feel for'em. Don't you?