It should be common knowledge by now that the cat is on a diet.
Which, of course, she hates.
We have an automatic feeder for her, set to go off at 6pm every evening and dispense 1/4 cup of cat food. Every evening, at 5pm, Maia can be found sitting patiently next to the feeder, and she will sit there for an hour until it makes the magic noise at 6pm which means the food is about to fall into the bowl.
Sometimes, however, she gets a little desperate. Like a little kid at a candy machine, she knows where the food is — she can see it — she just can’t get to it. She has discovered, after months of valiant effort, that if she shoves her paw just far enough into the dispenser, it will release a little morsel or two of cat food.
It is now fairly common for me to come upon the cat, paw and face stuffed into the food opening, looking for just… one… more… morsel…
