Well it didn't take long. In the battle of wits between human and cat, it was always going to be a human defeat. But I thought Celia would hold out longer. She caved in after only 24 hours. No more roasted bits were served. She upgraded to the pate type food - not my favourite but acceptable for the time being. The sachets of roasted bits were taken away to be put in the Cats Protection unwanted food bin at the vets. Rather like handing out scraps of food to the poor in Victorian times. They will be properly grateful for them, poor strays.
How did I do it? Well the picture shows how. I simply tipped my unwanted roasted bits into the water bowl. Neat, eh? I have to confess I licked up the gravy first. A sign of weakness, I know, but not weakness that mattered in the overall strategy. Celia came down to find the bits deposited in the water. When I don't like something I usualy rake up the floor round the unwanted items in my bowl. Some humans call this caching food and say I am trying to hide them, as a kind of storage to eat later. I don't dispute it's an instinctive thing but it's not about storing the food for later. Oh no. It is about disposing of it in a litter tray way. If food is shit, then I bury it. Only this time with a deft backhander of a handsome black paw, I upped the bowl so that it fell in the water tray. Rather skillful, I thought.
William came up trumps too. I don't say he acted out of solidarity because that dog-like behaviour would be demeaning for any cat. He ate one of the two bowls of roasted bits left down over night. But then he sicked it up on the living room carpet.
The day has started well. Cats one: humans nil.
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