Today, we used up the last of 2008's hurricane supplies. I had forgotten about the cans of chicken and turkey in the pantry. They were behind several taller items. That's my excuse, anyway.
When the cans were opened and the liquid pressed out, the odor produced a siren call for Mew. The fluid from water-pack, canned chicken is the only human food she is allowed to beg for. She knows it is hers. Entitlement, today thy name is cat.
I told her to up-up-up and she sat up with her front paws out for balance and waited.
After she finished her canned-chicken water, she looked like she had swallowed a ball.
We are living with a chicken-water-monster.