One of the mistakes many dog owners make is to treat their dog like a child. I can hear Cesar Milan's voice, saying, "When you take things out of nature, they become unablanced." Happily, cats take to being treated like a human child the way a duck takes to water: it's their prerogative, after all, being the true lords of the universe. The Mayans were right--the world will end on December 21, 2012. Because the Tweeb will die that day, and take her true form as the Goddess of Fickle.
The Tweeb has been on a prescription renal diet for the past two years. She eats both kibbles and wet food, getting about two tablespoons of kibbles for her breakfast, and a packet of wet food at night. We cheat a bit--she'll get some fish when we have it, and every night I lace her wet food with some of the normal kibble because otherwise she won't eat it--but overall we're pretty strict about making sure she stays on the prescription diet.
About two weeks into the regime change--we didn't change her food until her blood values remained elevated for two tests in a row--she started getting, well, bored with the food. And every night since has been a comedy of errors, to try to convince her to eat her food. It comes in two acts, repeated over and over again: the suspenseful build-up of squawking increasing in both frequency and volume; and the granting of said food. The last requires you to act like a teenybopper who's just been kissed by
It took us a while to work out the twisted map of the Tweeb's psyche. OK, I exaggerate. It's quite simple, really: CAT-MOMMY MUST BE WITH ME ALL THE TIME OR ELSE. Cats were once revered as gods--and while I'm an atheist, frankly...well, given the Tweeb's ability to break glass with her voice and throw temper tantrums, the "or else" bit is probably best left undiscovered.
Babies and toddlers eventually grow out of this stage, I'm told. This must be why we've started discussing children.